


77 Gunshots

by CaptainDegenerate



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A "fucking first feelings later" kind of deal, A Relationship Dynamic Many Would Consider Toxic, A quick 'n dirty kind of romance, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate universe - Mafia, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Genderbending, Gun Violence, Like a fuckton of gun violence, Morally Grey Reader-Insert, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possessive Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Reader secretly wants mafia daddy Levi to step on her, Romance, Rough Sex, This gonna be a shameless revenge tale and you know you want to see it, period-typical misogyny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainDegenerate/pseuds/CaptainDegenerate
Summary: Your mind is lucid and your objective is clear.Infiltrate the rulingfamigliaof this city as an errand boy. Advance the strict mafia hierarchy until you have access to the higher-ranking members. Assassinate Don Massimo Moretti and make sure everyone else who participated in the massacre of your family eleven years ago goes down with their Godfather.And if at all possible, find out why the man with cold, grey eyes allowed you to keep your life.





	1. A Season for Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the thing again where my brain just farts out a fic idea and I lack the self-discipline to keep myself from writing it out.
> 
> That being said, thank you for clicking this and welcome, enjoy! As per usual in my works, instead of y/n the reader character will have a default name. This time it's Ida Reader.
> 
> Enjoy!

_1912_

_“Ouch!”_

_You gasp as the paper makes a small cut on your finger. You pout and watch as a few pearls of your blood ooze to the surface._

_“Ida, I told you not to rip the wrapper,” your mother scolds you gently. She delves out something from the folds of her dress and presses a dark handkerchief against the cut. “Hold that there until the bleeding stops. I don’t want any blood falling on the table cloth, I just washed it.”_

_You make a sour face and haphazardly tie the cloth around your finger before getting back to the first and foremost thing on your mind: opening your Christmas present._

_From the gramophone on the coffee table, you can hear the familiar tune of Ave Maria. Your sister has been humming it on repeat lately. On the seat next to you, the said sister is admiring the collection of hair ornaments she received from your parents._

_You tear the last of the paper away and are greeted by the sight of a book. You stop and try to keep the disappointment from your face. You never liked reading and you only recently learnt how to do so fluently._

_You look at the picture of Goldilocks and the Three Bears on the cover._

_“Thank you,” you murmur obediently, but your mouth threatens to turn upside down into a pout. Your father gives you a look from over his newspaper._

_“I know you wanted a toy train set, but we just couldn’t afford it this year. You know we had to give Aunt Helen most of our savings.”_

_Aunt Helen, after losing her husband to smallpox, moved over to America only this year, and the ship she was on sank with all of her belongings. It was a big deal, you remember all the newspapers talked about it for ages. You didn’t understand much of what was going on, but a lot of people lost their lives._

_You know you should just thank the Lord that your aunt made it out alive, but you still feel a childish pang of bitterness. Why do you of all people need to give up your Christmas present for her? You improved all your grades and you made it to the girls’ gymnastics team. Your parents promised you the toy train set if you did better in school, that’s what they told you last year._

_Silence falls over the breakfast table. Outside, you can hear the normal hustling and bustling of your neighbourhood. Mr Stevenson is drunk again and hollering _Carol of the Bells _as he walks by the sidewalk. The sound of snow crushing under his feet is fully audible to your kitchen._

_Your sister, five years your senior, recently turned fourteen years of age, is evidently still on a mission to slim down. She leaves half of her oatmeal uneaten and skips to occupy the lavatory before your mother can complain to her about it. She starts getting ready to go out with some of her friends from the choir. They plan to go sing Christmas carols around the neighbourhood._

_You stay quiet and look over the fairy tale book._

_“Daddy, will you at least take me shooting?”_

_You father gives you a long look and at the sight of your pleading face, his face melts into a mischievous smile. His thin lips turn upwards, and he strokes the coarse hair of his moustache with his thumb and index finger._

_“You know I can’t tell you no when you give me that face,” he chuckles. Your mother, who is standing by a bucket of water rinsing out the oatmeal pot, pauses to give him disapproving frown._

_“Will, I don’t like that you let her shoot your revolver. She’s enough of a tomboy as is, we don’t need her to pick up a weapon on top of it all.”_

_“Nonsense, Ruth. The world is changing and sooner or later, girls will have to learn to fend for themselves. She hit a bullseye from twenty feet away the other day,” he announces proudly, and your face brightens at the praise._

_“Will, dear, do you really believe that? Or are you just trying to make Ida into the son you never had?”_

_Your smile dies and you turn your eyes down to your plate. _

_Your baby brother died of influenza when he was not three weeks old. The pregnancy had a high toll on your mother’s health due to her age and the doctor firmly advised against having another child._

_Thus, your father had to make do with two daughters._

_“I want to keep training and get better,” you announce. Your mother sighs and wipes her hands in her apron._

_“A gun’s place is not in the hands of a little girl,” she says firmly. “Your father has to know how to shoot because he’s a police corporal, but that does not apply to you.”_

_You don’t note the sound of cars pulling up in front of your house. You open your mouth to protest when the window suddenly breaks with a deafening sound. Glass shatters all over the breakfast table, and you watch the destruction with wide eyes._

_Immediately, your father leaps to his feet._

_“Ida, go to your room. Ruth, go get Lillian.”_

_The urgency in his voice leaves no room for arguments. You see your father start striding towards his study where he keeps his guns. You run upstairs, and just as you make it to the second floor, the front door bangs open. _

_Everything happens in slow motion, then._

_Your father comes out of his study, his revolver pointed at the door where men in heavy coats and top hats come pouring in, some holding revolvers but most having much bigger guns._

_In your shocked brain, you briefly think about how impressively organized the men are. They line up by the door ignoring your father’s futile attempts at gunning them all down, take aim at your father and open fire._

_You hear screaming, and you’re not sure if it’s your mother or your sister. Or even yourself._

_“The intel says he has a wife and some offspring. Search the house,” comes a command from their leader. The voice is deep and raspy, and it makes you jolt with the sudden realization that you need to hide. You quickly escape to you and your sister’s room._

_You close the door as quietly as you can and try to have a thought, any coherent one at all._

_They gunned down your father. Like one of the practice dummies you’ve seen him shoot through a few times, he’s now full of holes as well. You whimper and when you hear the guns go off again, you do the only action that comes to your mind and crawl under your sister’s bed._

_Who are these people? Why are they here? Why did they shoot your father? Are your mother and sister gone, too?_

_You hear another scream, accompanied by more gunshots, and you squeeze your eyes shut._

_You hear heavy footsteps come up, and you clamp your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your father taught both you and your sister to hide and stay quiet should anything ever attack the house. He’s a police officer, his job is to catch bad people. And sometimes, those bad people are not happy about it. You know as much._

_The door to your room is kicked open not a minute after, and three pairs of footsteps come in._

_“Pity to kill the younger one. She was my type,” you hear a wistful sigh as three pairs of shoes pause in the middle of the room. You watch, eyes wide, and suddenly worry that your breathing is too loud._

_“You’re disgusting,” another, younger voice cuts in with a click of the tongue. “Let’s find the final brat and get this over with.”_

_“How do you know he has more than one?”_

_“There are two beds in this room.”_

_You feel your body going cold. You freeze when you realize these men know you’re somewhere in here and are intent on finding you._

_You hear the sound of your wooden wardrobe being swung open. They check the windows to see if there’s a way down and then, finally, you see one of their knees hit the floor, and your tear-stained eyes widen._

_One of the men leans down and when you see the middle-aged, rough-looking face, you can’t keep the yelp at bay._

_“Found you,” he grunts and reaches a hand towards you. You back off to the furthest corner against the wall, as far away as possible, and try to kick and slap at his hands._

_“Come on now, missy, don’t waste my time,” the man sighs and grabs the scruff of your blue dress. He pulls you out and lifts you up on the bed. You land on the cushions with a small sound._

_You look at the three men in turns. The one who fished you out is the oldest of the bunch, with tobacco-stained teeth and a machine gun hooked under his elbow. His brown, messy hair has a few splotches of blood on it._

_The two men with him are younger, one looking not older than twenty. His grey eyes are cold and unreadable on you. Not a muscle on his face moves. His hand is steady as he points a revolver to your head._

_The final man looks to be near his thirties and he avoids looking at you. He looks uncomfortable. They’re all wearing long coats and top hats like the rest of the people you saw pouring through the front door._

_Your breathing is uneven and panicked as you look at the three._

_“Speak, missy. Do you have more than one sibling?”_

_You shake your head with a whimper._

_“Good, then. You’re the final one.” _

_He leans down and plops a sympathetic hand on your small head, messing up your pigtails a little._

_“Nothing personal, your daddy just messed with the wrong people. This’ll send a message to the police station nice and clear,” the oldest man enlightens you. You close your eyes, not knowing what else to do to make all this go away._

_Then, a series of gunshots ensue downstairs. The three men jolt and the oldest hurries to the door._

_“The girl was still alive, she got her hands on a machine gun!” someone yells from downstairs. “Caporegime, we need assistance!”_

_The oldest man sighs and rolls his eyes._

_“For goodness’ sake, a bunch of grown men can’t take out one manic female,” he mutters to himself. “Levi, finish her off. Guy, come with me.”_

_The two older men leave the room, leaving you there with the youngest man who’s had his revolver pointed to your head the whole time._

_You watch him with wide, fearful eyes. He looks cold. Ruthless._

_“A-are you going to shoot me, sir?” you ask with a shaky voice. The man watches you with narrowed eyes. Like you’re a feral animal he doesn’t know how to deal with._

_“What’s your name, kid?” he finally asks. His hand never ceases. _

_He looks around the room, the drawings hung up on the walls, the collection of little skirts and dresses in the opened wardrobe, the stick horse tucked under the covers on your bed as you’ve recently been sleeping with it and imagined you’re a sheriff and the horse is your trusted companion._

_“Ida,” you stutter. “Ida Reader. N-nice to meet you, sir,” you add the proper greeting._

_For whatever reason, the man’s eyes turn annoyed at that. He grits his teeth together and gives you an angry snarl. You shrink under his gaze._

_He seems to be contemplating something as he looks at your shivering body and watering eyes._

_Then, quite suddenly, he pulls the trigger. You scream and cower in fear, and it takes you a few seconds to realize he hit the wall behind you and is currently pinning you down, his hand covering your mouth to keep you from screaming again._

_“Listen to me closely, brat,” he says with a quiet voice. “Crawl right back under that bed, keep your damn mouth shut and wait until the coast is clear. If you get killed because you made too much noise or left your hiding spot too early, I’m not going to do a damn thing to help you. Got it?”_

_He doesn’t wait for you to respond. He gets up with your small body in his arms, shoves you back under the bed and walks to the door. Without looking back, he marches out and closes the door after himself._

_You hear some footsteps approach him after a couple of minutes._

_“Is it done?”_

_“Yeah. I wouldn’t go in there, it’s a messed up sight. I hate killing kids.”_

_“We all do. It’s just an unpleasant part of the job.”_

_“The other girl?”_

_“She’s taken care of. Tough little miss, she took out Lucas and James.”_

_You wait until the footsteps recede before you dare to take a proper breath. In a few minutes, the front door opens and closes, and you hear cars starting and driving away._

_Shocked and scared, you don’t dare to crawl out still. You stay quiet in the safety of your room until morning turns into daytime, your mind foggy and your body heavy like it’s suddenly made of lead. Your nine-year-old brain can’t comprehend what happened, so it shuts down._

_When you finally crawl out from under the bed well past midday, you’ve stopped shaking. Shock keeps your feet sturdy under you as you walk out, your eyes glossy and expression blank._

_You find your sister’s body in the middle of the staircase. Your mother is in the kitchen with a bread knife in her hand. A futile attempt at defending herself. Your father is where you saw him get gunned down in the hallway._

_ Their limp bodies and expressionless faces make something in your stomach churn, but you can’t quite name the feeling. Your brain isn’t developed enough to._

_Your mind is in a haze. You sit back down at the table and grab your cooled bowl of oatmeal. You poke at it with your spoon, expressionless as you wonder what to do._

_On the coffee table, Ave Maria plays still, repeating on an endless loop._

-

When morning dawns in the city, you’re already awake and bathing.

Sitting on a small wooden stool, you pinch your eyes closed. Next to a few basins of warm water are a pair of heavy steel scissors. You can smell the rust from the iron and when you take them in your hand and move them, they make a small squeaky sound.

You grab your coarse, long hair, and take a deep breath. The sound of the scissors fills the small bathroom, locks and locks of your hair falling all around the stool.

When you’re done, you comb a hand through your hair. Hardly reaching your ear and unevenly cut, you struggle to get used to the feeling of air flowing through to your scalp undisturbed.

You make sure to wash properly with neutral-smelling soap. No lavender oil or rosemary water is applied to your hair this morning.

You wander out to your bedroom, hair wet and droplets of water all over your naked body. On the narrow, rickety bed awaits a set of clothes.

A pair of cotton pants, some leather shoes, a white collared shirt, a coarse jacket. On top of the pile is a roll of bandages.

You grab it first and start rolling it over your chest. Your breasts, only recently budded, are pressed flat against your torso. You can only thank the Lord you never became well endowed. Staying on the move, training your body rigorously and attending the gymnastics class every single week has given you a lot of agility and lean muscle mass, a fact that will come in handy for sure.

You pull on your underwear and cover your body with the clothes. You secure your pants in place with suspenders, tie your polished leather shoes and cover your head with a hat you bought off a newsboy last week.

You fasten your belt and holster your revolver against your side. The jacket is pulled on last, and when you go to grab your suitcase from next to the wardrobe, you pause at your vanity to look over yourself.

You pass alright. Not for a fully grown man, but a teen boy for sure.

“You got this,” you tell yourself. You finally got the opening you’ve been waiting for, training for, for eleven years.

You step out of the bedroom to the barren living room. The walls are void of pictures, the bookshelf is all but empty with only a few books here and there. The wallpaper is frayed and the wood under your feet makes all kinds of discouraging sounds as you walk across.

On the rocking chair facing the fresh dawn, you see a familiar figure. You pause to take in the sight of her tight greying bun of hair, her brown dress with checker patches all over covering the multitude of holes, the way she moves the chair only slightly. It’s all familiar to you, comforting even.

You set your leather suitcase down and carefully walk to the rocking chair. You kneel down next to the woman and take her hand.

“Aunt Helen? I’m leaving now.”

Her vacant face turns to you. For a moment, she looks confused, but that soon gives way to a heartfelt smile.

“William, dear,” she sighs and cups your cheek. “Tell Ruth to bring me a cup of coffee, won’t you?”

You nod and get on your feet. You make her a cup at the stovetop, adding just a little bit of sugar to sweeten it to her taste.

“Here, Aunt Helen,” you say gently. She takes the cup with shaking hands and brings it to her lips.

“Such a beautiful morning,” she remarks. “Say what you will, an Englishwoman always feels at ease in London.”

Your smile gains a tint of sadness.

“Aunt Helen, we’re not in London. We’re in America,” you remind her. You don’t tell her that you’re not her deceased little brother William Reader, or that her sister-in-law Ruth Reader lost her life eleven years ago as well in a massacre that shook the law enforcement of your home city.

It makes things easier if she has no memory of you.

Your existence was skilfully hidden from all reports of the incident on the initiative of the police, to make sure no one would come after you. You grew up living a quiet life with your aunt, working odd jobs to support both of you ever since her Parkinson’s got worse and she could no longer work as a seamstress.

“I must be going now, Aunt Helen. I left money on your bedside table. The widower next door will visit twice a day, I gave her the key and paid her in advance.”

“Oh my. Are you taking yet another of your trips to America, Will? You know father opposes moving over there to marry that older sweetheart of yours. A man should marry a younger woman,” she scolds. You don’t remind her that you’re not in the 1890s anymore, you’re in the 1920s.

Instead, you get on your feet and press a kiss on her forehead.

“Take care, Aunt Helen. I’ll be back,” you promise. You take your suitcase and walk to the door.

As you step out to the street, busy with businessmen in cars, factory workers on bicycles on their way to work and children running towards the park a few blocks over, you pause to take a deep breath.

Finally, you have the chance.

Your mind is clear and your objective is straightforward.

Infiltrate the ruling _famiglia _of this city as an errand boy. Advance the strict mafia hierarchy until you have access to the higher-ranking members. Assassinate Don Massimo Moretti and make sure everyone else who participated in the massacre of your family eleven years ago goes down with their Godfather.

And if at all possible, find out why the man with cold, grey eyes allowed you to keep your life.

It’s early Autumn. The perfect season to be reborn. The perfect season for blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. Too many stories. I haven't decided how long this one will be, it might be a bit shorter. We'll see. Either way, my main focus will remain on finishing Of Tea and High Buildings but this is kind of the next project I will be putting in its place after I finish it.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts. Are you into a mafia AU? Cringing at how I probably have some oversights with the historical accuracy as a dumb European despite my best efforts? On board with our revenge-driven, gun-wielding, genderbending Reader here? Excited for the inevitable "oh shit am I gay" -character arc said genderbending may or may not trigger in Levi?
> 
> Let me know if you're interested in this, it's always important for me to hear people out at the beginning of a new story to gauge if it's at all something people are interested in! Looking forward to hearing what you have to say! :)


	2. The Grey Abyss

You only dare to stop for a second to take a deep breath before you walk in. You don’t want anyone to get suspicious by lingering.

Your face is stony and unreadable. A bell above the door makes a jingling sound and everyone turns to you with hard eyes, hands already inching towards their guns on instinct.

You pause and look around the room. It’s a dimly lit, saloon-type coffee shop with flaky tables, dirty checkered curtains and no coffee or waitresses in sight. The only people in are the five men. Four of them are sitting around a table playing cards. They’re dressed in cotton shirts and top hats. At their waist, you can see each of them has a gun. One of them is smoking a cigar.

“Shit, Georgie, for a second I thought he was a moll of yours,” one of the men grins. He looks to be about forty, with reddish skin and unattractively flappy chins. His thick fingers are clutching his cards so hard they are crumbling up a little.

A man, apparently Georgie, gives you a dull once-over.

“Too flat to be one of mine,” he announces. He’s younger and more handsome, with careless, wavy ginger hair framing his clear, well-groomed face. You instantly don’t like him. You’ve had too many georgies in your life, trying to pick you up from dance saloons and cocktail parties.

The two other men at the table stay quiet. They look young, barely eighteen, their faces still carrying that round, non-threatening quality to them. The holstered revolvers at their hips, however, beg to differ.

They’re probably lackeys, either recruited as teens or born into the _famiglia_.

The final man looks to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and is leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed in annoyance and face turned sideways to glare out of the window. Your eyes pause at him, and you can’t help a small, inexplicable tug of emotion in your chest.

He turns his cold, dark eyes to you. You pause to take in his surprisingly fine features, how thin and delicate his fingers are at the handle of his gun, how neatly combed his black hair is, how carefully ironed his clothes are.

“State your business, kiddo,” he orders when you take a second too long to speak. He looks ruthless and emotionless as he talks to you. The kind that will shoot you down for the mere sin of getting on his nerves, without as much as having his finger linger on the trigger.

“My name is Isaac Hendricks,“ you start, lowering your voice just a notch to pass for a young boy. “I heard from boys around town that you’re looking for associates.”

The man eyes you, clearly unconvinced. The thick man with sausage-like fingers, however, gets up and waddles to you.

“You want to work for the mafia, boy?” he asks and leans in. You meet his sunken, small eyes calmly.

“I’m sick of being a newsboy. I heard you could make more money here,” you explain dully. “My ma is sick and I don’t make enough to provide for her.”

“This is not work anyone can do,” he warns you with a grin. “You look awfully young.”

“I will be fine. Thank you for your concern,” comes your rehearsed response. The man chuckles and places his index finger under your chin to check your face thoroughly.

“Well, to be fair, you look rather harmless. One could almost mistake you for a dame. You see, what we need is-”

“A mule,” someone cuts in. You tear your eyes from the plump gangster to see that the man at the windowsill has stepped a bit closer, looking very discouraging.

“What we need is a mule. Someone to take the booze to our customers without attracting attention. Do you have any idea how much a bottle of our moonshine sells for?”

He walks up to you. The man eyeing you up instantly pulls away. You can immediately tell that this man is the highest-ranking member here, given how everyone falls quiet when he opens his mouth.

“If you break any of the bottles, your measly pocket money won’t be enough to cover for it. If the cops come to check what you’re carrying, you can’t just drop the load and make a run for it. If the goods get damaged, someone will come to gut you and your ill mother.”

You never waver as you look in the deep, cold grey. Your eyes, young as they may be, are shining with determination and experience that exceeds your years.

“Then all I need to do is to not drop them,” you counter simply. The men at the table fall quiet for a moment before bursting out laughing.

“You’ve got spunk, boy, I’ll give you that,” the man with an impressive number of chins tells you. “Let’s see how long you can keep that ballsy attitude.”

“Well, he’s not _wrong,_” Georgie points out.

An impatient wave by the hand of the grey-eyed man shuts everyone up on cue. His eyes narrow thoughtfully as he looks over your face.

“How old are you, kiddo?” he finally asks.

Nineteen.

“Seventeen.”

“Are you familiar with the Moretti _famiglia_?”

“They rule this side of the city. I doubt there are many who don’t know it,” you point out calmly.

“So, you insist you know exactly what you’re getting yourself into?“

There’s some suspicion in the man’s eyes. You realise that most people who come looking for work are either washed up mobsters or kids too young and dumb to understand what they’re meddling with. You don’t fit either profile, so it’s only natural he’s hesitant.

“Is money the only thing you’re after, kiddo?”

You contemplate for a moment before deciding to lay the cards on the table right away.

“I want to get in contact with the _famiglia_ as an errand boy and prove myself enough to join.”

That gains everyone’s interest. The man called Georgie chuckles.

“The lad wants to join the mafia. You want to buy medicine for your ma that badly?”

“I need a steady stream of money.”

“If you enter this _famiglia_, it means everyone in your family enters as well. There’s no backing out,” one of the lackeys points out.

“You sure you want to drag that mother of yours into mafia affairs?”

“She’s just a sick old lady. I doubt you’d have much use for her,” you point out with a cold, indifferent tone. You need to sell the persona you’ve chosen. Of a young, desperate gunslinger with a clear mind and steady hands.

To make it in the mafia, you have to be a machine, for all intents and purposes. Given how these people could just massacre your entire family out of nowhere.

The man eyes you for a long while. Then, finally, he nods to himself, eyes cool.

“Fine. If you want to prove yourself, then you’d better become the best mule we’ve ever had.”

“Finally convinced, _Capo_?”

So, this man with sharp eyes and meticulous appearance is a _Caporegime_. It’s good to know, confirmation you can actually get somewhere by pleasing this guy.

“If the kid’s dumb enough to ruin his life, who am I to stop him,” the Caporegime shrugs. You frown. He has a rather unusual way of talking about the mafia. Most members seem to glorify the lifestyle.

He walks to the back of the coffee shop and gestures you to follow him.

You pull aside the heavy curtain separating the front of the coffee shop from the back, and you instantly see stacks upon stacks of alcohol lined up along the tiled walls. Bottles of high-grade moonshine packed in boxes. There are no windows in the room, and it’s very dimly lit. The air is cool and dry, perfect for storing things.

“We have our own operations to take these to large buyers. What we need errand boys for is taking these to consumers who can’t be bothered to go buy from bars and pharmacies.”

“Rich folk?”

“Mostly. Naturally, their patronage is confidential. If you go blabbering, I’ll shoot your brains out.“

You nod. You know that’s not an idle threat.

You take your bag from your back.

“Just tell me who I need to take booze to and how much.”

The man takes out a list of names, addresses and quantities. He hands it to you.

“Once you’ve completed your rounds, come here for payment. You’ll get fifteen cents for each completed delivery.”

You look over the list. It has fourteen names. If you plan your routes, you can deliver them in a day. It’s good pay, substantially more than the newsboys make.

Not that you’re very concerned with money at the moment. You’ve saved enough for Aunt Helen to live off of for a few months, and you paid the widower next door in advance to look after her.

With the money you earn, you can sleep in a motel and save up. Hopefully, in time you’ll gain enough trust to house in the Moretti Mansion. But that’s future talk.

You pack your rucksack full of bottles, wrap a rag around them to keep them from getting damaged and walk to the door.

“I’ll come here to restock every now and then,” you announce. The Caporegime nods and hops back on the windowsill. He crosses his arms and legs and turns his face to glare outside again. The rest resume their game of poker.

Making the rounds is just as easy and uneventful as you thought. You bought a cheap bicycle from a scraggly-looking shopkeeper before tracking down the coffee shop and you use it to deliver the alcohol.

Most of the doors you end up behind belong to mansions and chic, high-grade apartments. The recipients are mostly well-groomed folk, with thick wallets and most sport even thicker moustaches.

You make the deliveries without any bigger drama. You don’t need to collect the payments for the booze, most recipients pay protection money to the Moretti family anyway. You wouldn’t be entrusted with cash in any case.

As you finish the last deliveries for the day, you’re given two dollars as a salary, which is more than enough to pay for room and board for the night.

“Can I come back tomorrow?” you ask the dark-eyed Capo. He nods. The suspicious sheen in his eyes never disappears, but you haven’t given him a reason to deny your labour.

“Be here at seven tomorrow morning.”

-

The next week goes by uneventfully. Little by little, you build a solid basis for trust and further responsibilities. You never damage the goods, you’re always on time, you deliver the booze swiftly and your face isn’t the kind that pisses off the extravagant people you deliver to.

The dark-haired Capo is not always the one operating the coffee shop. Sometimes he’s absent and left everything to the poly-chinned henchman. Sometimes it’s a whole another Capo at the helm of the business operations for the day.

It doesn’t really matter to you, the more people you can give a good image of a hard-working, eager young man, the better. However, something about the grey-eyed man, whose name evades you still, feels oddly unnerving.

It’s the following Thursday that something interesting finally happens. You wake up at dawn and get ready for the day.

The motel you stay at is nothing to write home about. The bed is old and rickety, the mattress squeaks under your back every time you wiggle in a futile attempt to get comfortable. The linen smells stuffy and the curtains are so thin you wake up with the first ray of sunshine that creeps above the horizon.

The bathroom is filled with rusty pipes and the metallic scent is impossible to overwrite with the lazily aromatised soap you’re provided with.

Then again, you picked the cheapest motel on purpose. A few roaches are a price you’re willing to pay to save money. You might need it later.

In case things go seriously wrong, you want to have an emergency fund with which you can book a ticket for yourself and Aunt Helen to go back to London before the Moretti famiglia wipes you out.

As you step out to the cool, crisp and dewy morning and mount your worn-out bicycle, you pause for a moment to take a deep breath. You need to keep an eye open for any opportunities to prove yourself. Aside from being a good booze mule, that is.

You double-check that your bandages are securely pressing your breasts down and that you have your revolver, hidden but accessible against your side.

You cycle your way through the awakening streets. Newsboys are already out and about, you see a few shoe-shining stands with their owners snoozing in the chair. You cycle past a few homeless people, some passed out and hugging a bottle of low-quality moonshine.

You’re approaching the last corner before arriving at the coffee shop when you notice a parked car. The black, inconspicuous Albert has its engine running still. Inside, you see three men in top hats and coats, discussing something amongst each other.

You don’t pause to look at them. You can immediately tell that they’re a part of the mafia. The question remains, are they Morettis or someone else?

Either way, you know it’s your chance. The men didn’t note you and to them, you probably look like a dumb errand boy anyway. They’re unlikely to react to you going inside the coffee shop.

You walk inside and look around. The dark-haired Capo is sitting at the table with his feet placed on the wooden surface. He’s peeling an apple with a knife, eyes sharp as always.

He only has one lackey with him this morning. He’s nodding off at the table, clearly aching to sleep for a few more precious hours.

“Is the car parked around the corner one of yours?” you ask casually as you walk past them to the back of the coffee shop.

You feel the Capo’s eyes on your back.

“Hold it,” comes the immediate, cool order. You pause and turn to give him a raised eyebrow.

“Car?”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

“I cycled past a black Albert with three men in dark coats and top hats inside. I assumed they’re gangsters and thought they might be part of your family.”

Immediately, both the Capo and his lackey take out their guns and load them.

“Get in the back and stay there, kiddo.”

You do as you’re told, but the second the heavy curtain closes behind you, you take out your revolver and load it.

A minute goes by in a tense silence before the door opens. You hardly hear the bell go off before the space is filled with rapid gunshots, the kinds that are aimed to kill, not deter. You crawl to the flap of the curtain and take cover next to it.

When the gunshots pause, you carefully peek into the store.

There’s no blood anywhere, which is a plus. You don’t see any bodies, either. The Capo and his lackey are ducked behind the counter, loading their weapons with calm yet concentrated faces. They’re used to these situations.

The door is wide open, and you see the edge of a top hat peeking from each side of it. You can hear the car running in the background, ready to go should there be a need for a swift getaway.

You realise this is your chance to get this Capo’s favour on your side. The second one of the men by the door sticks his head out with the intention of opening fire, you quickly pull the trigger. His bullet hits the counter behind which the lackey is, while yours hits the man’s forehead.

He slumps down, blood steadily trickling out of the coin-sized hole in his head.

You duck back to the back room, but the way the curtain sways a little doesn’t go unnoticed by the Caporegime.

After a few more gunshots, you hear the car screeching away. You wait, and it only takes a few seconds before the Capo comes to the back room.

You’ve already holstered your weapon, and he marches to you. Unceremoniously, he yanks your jacket open to reveal the concealed weapon.

“Why do you know how to fire a weapon, kid?” he asks, eyes hard and suspicious. You shrug harmlessly.

“I grew up in rural Alabama. Not much to do there but to shoot possums and empty cans of Campbell’s.”

“Your accent doesn’t sound very Southern.”

“Trust me, it took a lot of effort to stop talking like a goddamned cracker.”

He doesn’t look convinced. He cocks up an eyebrow and thinks it over.

“If you were this useful all along, why didn’t you just state so outright?”

“I thought you wouldn’t believe me unless I proved myself.”

His eyes reveal he wouldn’t have, but that he’s suspicious even if the logic makes sense.

“So, you want to join the famiglia? You want to become a _soldato_?” he asks. You nod gravely, your eyes eager but revealing nothing of your true intentions.

The lackey, having heard your conversation, peeks his head into the back room.

“Isn’t it fine? The lad clipped one of them with a clean hit. Besides, after the massacre at O’Reily’s, we’ve been short on people.”

The Caporegime remains quiet for a moment longer. He then releases a breath.

“Fine. After the rounds today, come with me. We’re visiting the Moretti mansion.”

Despite the beast of vengeance inside you roaring with content, given the first hint of blood to come, your face remains expressionless. You merely nod, compliantly, nonchalantly even, and take out your rucksack to start loading in the booze.

As you walk outside to the street, eerily empty as most people fled at the first signs of mafia conflict, you hear the lackey speak up.

“I think he will be useful, Levi. I’ve got a hunch. Don’t you?”

Immediately, your eyes widen and you almost drop the rucksack you were halfway through hoisting over your back.

Intrusive thoughts invade your usually calm brain. Memories. Flashes going on an endless reel behind your eyelids, only growing more rapid each time you blink.

_The rattling of machine guns. Top hats. Heavy coats. Ave Maria. Cold, stiff corpses scattered all around your house. The man’s low voice. His eyes. The grey abyss with only a hint of humanity left._

Levi. The man who was tasked with killing you eleven years ago yet inexplicably spared your life.

You’re frozen in place for what feels like an eternity, during which you re-live the horrific massacre that took place on that cursed Christmas Day of 1912.

You snap back to reality just in the nick of time before Levi gets suspicious, and hurry to your bike. As you pedal away with fire in your eyes, your pulse thumping in your ears like tolls for blood, you wonder how to approach this situation.

You hit the brake abruptly when you’re a safe distance away from the coffee shop and pause to think things over.

You now know where Levi is. By the looks of things, you will be entering the mafia as one of Levi’s foot soldiers. This is an excellent opportunity to try and find out why he spared you.

You take a steadying breath and steel your nerves. You now have more information. That’s all.

This changes nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to continuing this story and I already did a bit of planning with the plot! I put the estimate for a chapter count at 15 for now, but I might adjust accordingly as the story progresses.
> 
> Reader is getting somewhere with the mafia. What a happy coincidence that she was reunited with Levi so soon (<- she says as if she wasn't the one who wrote this convenient plot point just because she didn't want to spend five chapters with Reader delivering booze for some low-ranking lackeys).
> 
> Anyway, we got some gun action and stuff, and I'm noticing that I'm not good at staying awake super late anymore. I used to be able to stay up until 6-7 in the morning, it's now almost 4 a.m. and I'm falling asleep here haha. I just wanted to post this update first before hitting the sack!
> 
> Comments are always greatly appreciated, I'd love to hear what you want/expect to happen, how you feel about the characters, anything that comes to mind really. Comments give me fuel to keep writing so if you've got a spare moment, please consider leaving a comment! ^^
> 
> Until next time!


	3. A Small Price

With a deep breath, you yank the door handle. You open the door and walk in the room. You adjust your freshly bought tie and take off your top hat.

You’re about to become a mobster, so you need to look the part.

In the large room, you see a collection of people sitting in wide, cushioned chairs. They’re dressed to their best, with glasses of cognac and brand cigars in their hands.

The floor is covered with an amber-coloured carpet, the walls have an expensive-looking wallpaper on them and the curtains are heavy satin, matching the carpet.

The timing of acquainting yourself with the mafia wasn’t an accident. The huge territory dispute a few months ago and a subsequent mass arrest left the Moretti _famiglia_ in a position where a large part of their made men are either dead or imprisoned, to the point where they struggle with operating their businesses with the remaining members and associates alone.

Thus, despite some vocal opposition from the _consigliere_ and capos, the don ultimately decided to start accepting outsiders as members, not only full or half-blood Italians.

That made things much easier for you. You don’t need to pretend like you’re of Italian descent, a feat you would no doubt flunk thanks to not speaking any Italian.

You close the door after yourself and look at the table where the superiors are sitting. A _soldato_ escorts you to sit down at the table, in between Levi and another _capo_ you’ve seen a few times during the last week you’ve come here to get interrogated by the consigliere and the underboss. You didn’t really have an issue selling them your persona as a young, opportunistic gunslinger who likes money and isn’t afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Thus, you were accepted.

The soldato places three things in front of you. A revolver, a knife and a picture of a saint you can’t name. Your family was Protestant.

The consigliere, Marco Rossi, is a man in his late forties. Slim and sharp-looking with pale skin and long face, he is obviously one of the people against outsiders being initiated. He asked you a bunch of tough questions and were it not for the underboss, Manuel Moretti, backing you up and Levi begrudgingly sponsoring you, having witnessed your ability to carry out hits first-hand, the consigliere would have rejected you.

Manuel Moretti is _Don _Massimo Moretti’s eldest son. Obviously advised to back up his father’s decision to allow in outsiders, he was more accepting of you during the interrogations. He’s a tad on the plump side, with a round face and small eyes. He looks to be about the same age as Levi.

He looks and seems exceptionally non-threatening. Not the kind to carry the torch of Massimo Moretti when he retires despite his best efforts.

You turn your eyes to the objects before you.

Usually, a hopeful made man is obligated to carry out a contract killing to make sure his loyalty is truly with the mafia, but you were relieved of this duty thanks to your contribution to the shootout.

This is somewhat of a relief to you, though were you required to do a hit in order to get in, you would have done it without pausing to think. What’s one more victim when your end goal is to assassinate and annihilate this whole family and save countless more lives?

It disgusts you. Seeing the lavish lifestyle of the Moretti mansion, the extravagant parties, the corrupt police and politicians who drive in to negotiate in their flashy cars with dark windows to shield their faces.

The corruption of this city runs deep, way deeper than the sale of moonshine to the elite’s little gatherings.

“Do you vow to honour the code of conduct of the Moretti _famiglia_?” Manuel Moretti asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you vow to honour the _omertà_ no matter the circumstances?”

“Yes.”

“Do you vow to always remain loyal to your _famiglia_, never raise your hand against your brothers, never sell out or betray their trust and never lay a hand on their wives and children?”

“Yes.”

“Do you vow to always be on your best behaviour, respect women and your elders, never get involved with narcotics nor otherwise bring dishonour to our family name?”

“Yes.”

Levi takes out a small pocket knife after a second of ceremonial silence. His skin is surprisingly soft and his hold gentle as he uses the tip of the blade to prick your finger. He squeezes until a few pearls of your blood ooze out, falling on top of the picture.

He then hands you a box of matches. You light one afire and use it to burn the picture. You pass the burning paper to Levi, who quickly passes it on. The picture laps around the heavy mahogany table and the capo to your left places the picture back down and allows it to burn out.

“Congrats, kiddo, you’re now a made man,” one of the caporegimes with a toothy grin and cloudy eyes remarks.

“You’re a part of Levi’s crew,” _Sottocapo_ Moretti appoints.

You glance at Levi from under your brows. You surmised that would be the case. He was your sponsor after all.

The _don_ is not here, then again you didn’t really expect him to be for a mere initiation. Overall, you haven’t seen him around the mansion during your visit. He seems to spend a lot of time in his office, making him a harder target to get to.

The others get up, some of them pat your shoulder as they walk out, taking the smell of expensive cognac and cigars with them.

Levi stays behind and after the last person has walked out, he gets on his feet.

“Follow me,” he says simply. You walk out after him and go down the long hallway towards the main entrance of the mansion. The hallway is well decorated, with detailed portraits on the walls and periodically polished wooden floors.

“You’re wet behind the ears, so you won’t be given your own operations to run in a while. I expect you to report to me and attend to me every day at seven the latest.”

“At the coffee shop?”

“No, here.”

“Here? You reside in the mansion?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

You take that as a yes but shut your mouth nonetheless. He leads you out of the mansion, to the sunny front yard. You look around, at the luscious grass fields, the few young women sitting under parasols to avoid tanning, giggling and pointing at Levi a little as he walks by.

“Mr Ackerman!“ one of them calls and waves. The way her emerald eyes light up hopefully when Levi turns to look doesn’t escape you. You are a young woman. You can decipher that she’s quite fond of him. She adjusts a lock of her brunette hair and smiles at him.

Levi raises his hat to the women, polite but disengaged, and marches down the gravel walkway towards the driveway.

“Who are they?”

“The don’s daughter and her friends,” Levi grunts. He glances at the way you give them a curious glance and shakes his head. “I know you’re a teenage boy but keep your hands to yourself unless you want to die.”

You nod wordlessly as you reach the gates. Levi’s admitted out, and he walks to his car.

“Get in,” he orders and opens the front door for you. You frown a little.

“Where are we going?”

Levi gives you a blank, impatient look.

“I’m your capo. I order, you obey. Get in.”

You comply, though reluctantly. Something about the way he looks at you and the way there’s no one but you two makes you uneasy.

Levi drives through the streets in silence. You look out of the window, at the children playing with spinning tops in parks with their mothers watching them while basking in the sun on the benches, at newsboys standing in street corners with tired eyes, mouths open mid-yell, at rich-looking couples promenading with linked arms.

Levi drives until you exit even the outskirts of the city. The further away from urbanisation you get, the more nervous you feel.

You have your revolver on you, but you doubt you at 19, talented though you are, can stand up to a mafia _caporegime_ should he try to do something.

A small, dreadful voice in the back of your head keeps telling you that Levi is too observant to miss the fact that you’re a girl. Hell, maybe he even recognised you.

You bite your lower lip and try to come up with a plan should that be the case.

When Levi finally pulls over, it’s next to a large evergreen forest about a twenty-minute drive from the mansion. Glancing at Levi, you try to keep your nerves off your face.

“Get out of the car.”

You swallow and keep your hands steady as you reach for the door handle. With your other hand, you subtly try to reach for your revolver to keep it at hand, just in case.

“Hands where I can see them.”

You hear a click, and you don’t need to turn to see that Levi’s readying a gun of his own. You get out of the car, feeling his eyes on you as he does the same on his side.

He moves around the front and easily grabs you by the neck of your shirt. Dragging you into the woods without a word, he shoves you up against a pine tree.

In a second, he’s pressed against you, the cold barrel of his gun pressing into your temple. You see his cold eyes boring into yours as he leans in.

He slips his hand in your jacket, and for a second, you’re worried he’ll feel the bandages underneath. To your relief, however, he merely grabs your gun and takes it off you, chucking it on the ground further away.

“Alright. I think it’s about time you drop the good boy act and tell me exactly what you’re planning.”

His voice is low and intimate, and you feel his breath against your cheek as he narrows his eyes and moves closer.

You feel his hand on top of your chest, pinning you down, and you can only pray he doesn’t notice the coarse texture of the bandages underneath.

You meet his eyes, yours just a little bit wide. You tug on a mask to conceal your thoughts and focus on looking as bewildered as possible.

“I have no idea what you’re saying, sir,” you counter, putting just a bit of nervous stutter in your voice. You feel the cold metal press tighter against your head, he looks thoroughly unamused and he doesn’t let up.

There they are again. Those cold, grey eyes. Eyes of a trained killer. Eyes of someone who wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over pulling that trigger.

Yet, eleven years ago, he allowed you to live, going against his superiors’ orders. Why?

“This is all just too convenient,” Levi tells you, eyes hard and stormy yet his voice is calm and collected. “You arrive, out of nowhere, just as we open the books for outsiders, with a generic backstory, expert shooting skills and a desire to make merry with the mafia. The guys up the chain might be dumb enough to buy it but I won’t. So, what are you after?”

“If you thought I have ulterior motives, why did you assist me with joining?” you ask, just a little breathy by the closeness. If there’s one thing you forgot to do in preparation of this, it was getting used to a lot of men in close vicinity, acting all kinds of handsy because they think you’re one of them.

You can feel Levi’s hand on top of your chest, over one of your restrained breasts pressing you down. You need to get used to it, and there are more pressing issues at hand. Like the gun pointed at your brain.

“That’s none of your business,” Levi retorts. “What you should concern yourself with is coming up with any reason I shouldn’t blow your head off right here and now.”

Your pulse is thundering in your ears. Adrenaline is pumping through your veins, and you briefly contemplate letting Levi in on your identity. So far, he clearly hasn’t gathered that you’re a woman, given how he’s practically groping your boob.

Your mind works nimbly and connects the dots, and you quickly speak before you can stop to think if it’s a good idea.

“Because if you kill me, you’ll never know,” you slip out. “That’s why you admitted me in. If I’m just a foot soldier sent to infiltrate, you’ll be much better off keeping an eye on me until you know what I’m after instead of risking the next in the chain of command coming in after me. I don’t have any ulterior motives and I can prove it to you with time, but if I did and you killed me, you would have to keep an eye out for the next rat that tries to come scurrying through. You want to know my end game.”

Levi pauses for a precious ten seconds and you wonder if he’s just going to pull the trigger and reduce all your efforts into nothing. Then, he snorts.

“So, you have a brain on you on top of those gunman skills. Makes me all the less eager to let you live,” he says. His low voice vibrates against the shell of your ear. You shiver, your whole body suddenly on goosebumps.

A demanding hand grabs your throat and you’re pushed down on your knees, his gun now pointed at your forehead.

You feel his fingertips pressing into your delicate neck, the cold metal a sharp contrast to your suddenly heated face. You see the ruthless grey of his eyes, your windpipe closing off, and feel a very different kind of shudder.

_“Mmh.”_

Both of you freeze the instant the soft, feminine and undeniably aroused moan bypasses the filter in your adrenaline-filled mind and tears straight out of your mouth.

You did _not_ mean to do that.

Firstly, because getting aroused by a guy about to kill you is pretty fucked up.

Secondly, because you’re trying to pass off as a guy.

Thirdly, because there is a very real chance he’s going to kill you for what he probably perceives as gay behaviour.

Levi gives you a long, weirded-out look and then lets go of your throat.

“Keep your weird perversions to yourself,” he says with a scrunched up nose, clearly disgusted. Though, you see his eyes flicker to your bruising, exposed throat in a fleeting moment that doesn’t escape you. Then, his eyes turn a little harder and he uses his boot to pin you down.

He kicks you back against the tree, foot resting on your shoulder. His revolver is still placed against your head, but there’s now a very unnerving, unreadable edge to his cold eyes.

Suddenly, you’re not sure if you’re afraid of him blowing your brains out or telling you to sexually lick his boot.

And maybe it’s the crazy amount of adrenaline pumping through your whole body, your natural biological instinct to mate before dying, but you kind of like the thought.

You stare each other down for a long while. He looks calm, but there is a small undercurrent of discomfort that your moan brought to the situation. It all feels tenser now. Sexual.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t shoot you right now,” Levi tells you coldly.

You try to think of something. Anything. Then, you cling to the only thing you can think of, even if it’s at the risk of exposing yourself.

“I’m seventeen. I’m a child.”

Levi pauses then. He raises a slow eyebrow.

“And what makes you think I won’t shoot a child if it’s for my _famiglia_?”

There it is. The one thing you blatantly forgot.

“You probably would,” you quickly disregard your previous argument, “but I’m a part of this _famiglia_ as well. You can’t kill me without a blessing from the don.”

“I could shoot you now, make it look like you chickened out and ran and have our hitmen come after your sick mother with zero issues.”

“You could,” you admit. You just need to bank on Levi not actually going through with it. He contemplates, his foot keeping you still like you’re some lowly dog, a fact that pisses you off and excites you equal amounts.

You wonder if you harbour some attraction towards Levi because he saved you from certain death. Or if it’s mainly because of his dapper looks and attractive physique.

The corner of his eye twitches and he finally grabs your hair and yanks you back on your feet. You wince as you feel his rough hands on you, dragging you further into the forest.

“We’ll see where your loyalties are soon,” he scoffs. He walks you through the quiet woods for what feels like an eternity until you start hearing something. A small, whimpering sound coming from somewhere in the forest.

As you draw closer, you realise it’s not any bird or animal, it’s the sound of muffled human sobs.

Levi walks you to your destination, not caring about the fact that your hair is ripping a little bit under his bruising hands.

You’re met with the sight of a middle-aged woman, tied to one of the trees with a gag in her mouth and a cloth wrapped over her eyes. She’s shivering from head to toe from fear, and you can see that she’s even wet herself in her panic, the front of her blue skirt dampened and dark.

Who knows how long she’s been tied here. If Levi brought her here before the initiation ceremony, she could have been here for more than six hours.

Levi drags you in front of her and removes both the scarf and the gag. Her eyes, wide and fearful, fixate on her captor and when she sees Levi, she whimpers.

“Please,” she whispers. “Whatever my husband is doing, I have no part in it. I have nothing to do with the mafia. Please, _signore_, you’ve got to believe me, I want nothing to do with your wa-”

Levi grabs your hand and slaps a revolver into it.

“Kill.”

So, Levi planned and orchestrated all this, brought her here and tied her up, to test you. The higher-ups decided you didn’t need to prove yourself with a hit, but Levi was not going to let you off the hook.

The woman sobs and turns her eyes to you.

“Please, _ragazzetto_, don’t do this. I have children, I have a family,” she tries to bargain, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleads for her life.

You’ve shot and killed people before, but up until now, they have more or less deserved it. This woman, by the looks of it, has done nothing but marry the wrong person. She’s probably the wife of either a politician or a rival mobster. Her blood is just a way to send a message that says _“your children are next”_.

Just like your mother did nothing aside marry an honourable policeman who refused bribery and corruption-

“What’s the holdup? Clip her.” Levi’s icy voice intercepts your thoughts.

You refuse this, Levi will kill you.

As horrible as it is, your ambitions are too important for you to afford sympathy for this woman.

You meet her begging eyes, briefly stop to look at the way her eyes squint, her mouth grimaces, her tired body struggles against her restraints and were it not for the ropes keeping her on her feet, she would long since have fallen on her knees.

You can’t die now. That’s the first and foremost thought in your head.

You want to apologise before pulling the trigger, but you know Levi will not appreciate it. So, you aim, allow your eyes to soften the tiniest bit as your eyes meet hers, her deep brown full of terror and struggling to understand, let alone accept, that her life has come to an end.

A shot goes off and she slumps forward, a steady creek of blood streaming down her forehead and dripping onto the ground.

You keep your eyes steely and your hands steady as you hand the gun back to Levi.

You’ve worked so hard to get here. Such a small price your humanity is to pay for this vengeance.

Levi’s eyes are again hard and unreadable. He grabs the gun and holsters it inside his jacket. Then, he turns to walk off.

“Follow me, then.”

“You’re not going to shoot me?”

“For now.”

“Shouldn’t we at least allow her a proper Catholic funeral?”

“I’ll send someone to collect her when we get back to the mansion.”

When you’re sure Levi is not watching, you turn your head just a bit to look behind you, at the lifeless corpse you just created.

This will weigh heavily in your mind for a while, even though you always knew you would have to get your hands dirty if you wanted to make it in the mafia.

You then look at the back of Levi’s head, the neatly combed ebony hair and confident swagger of his stride.

You passed the first test of loyalty. You’re in the clear, for now, but that doesn’t mean Levi is done keeping both eyes on you. You should be happy and relieved.

Only now, you have two problems.

Firstly, you’re afraid of giving away your true identity.

Secondly, the shivers of arousal haven’t gone away with the adrenaline.

You really are one fucked-up dame, now, aren’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Step on me Mafia Daddy.
> 
> Sidenote, this will not be a slow burn, this will be quick 'n dirty on the romance department, as you probably gathered from the 15-chapter length. I mean come on, Levi already has lowkey started having those "fuck me tfw your newest soldato is into some weird shit and you lowkey wanna tap that ass but it's the 20s and that shit's not gonna be cool in like 50 more years god fucking damn it" -thoughts. Poor guy.
> 
> I'm also aware that were this historically accurate, Reader would not be allowed to enter the mafia as a member since she is not of Italian descent. So, I did what any responsible author would and twisted the historical facts with bullshit reasoning to fit the narrative I want to make. Checkmate.
> 
> I love comments. Gimme plz. If nothing else, at least lemme know what kind of shoes you want Levi to step on Reader with.


	4. Miss Ida

Weeks roll by slowly for you. You get up come dawn, put on your clothes, ride your bicycle through the cold and misty morning streets to the Moretti mansion. There, you report to Levi, who has made a habit out of berating you.

It’s kind of hot. As much as you try to keep your mind off the fact.

You don’t get involved in too much mayhem, most of your efforts go into smoothly operating the booze trade. Most days, Levi takes you to the coffee shop and majority of your days there are spent watching the others play cards while the mules (mostly young newsboys), come by to restock.

It’s another one of those lazy Wednesdays. Georgie has won three games of poker in a row, to the dismay of Robert, the large man you encountered when you first came applying for a job.

Overall, Levi has a rather large section with dozens of scattered operations, but there are a few trusted men he keeps close by: Georgie, Robert, Anton, Donnie. And as the newest addition, you.

Anton and Donnie are two relatively new members. Both young and enthusiastic, they run Levi’s more personal errands. They mostly deliver letters and execute shakedowns or hits as ordered.

Other newcomers, he sends on mundane errands but Levi’s trust in you is so non-existent he doesn’t trust you to as much as go start the car for him. Thus, you’re glued to his side for the foreseeable future.

“What a snooze fest today is,” Robert sighs as he forfeits yet another match to Georgie. He scratches the skin between his chins and turns to a young soldato whose name escapes you. The boy looks even younger than you.

“Go get me another glass of whiskey, lad,” he tells him. The boy nods and hurries to the back.

You’re not playing with the rest. You’re sitting on the windowsill, legs crossed, and staring out of the window. You see some housewives on their midday strolls, some delivery trucks drive by and exactly zero things that are interesting.

You glance at the four men at the table but decide against joining their game of poker. The sums they gamble on are not small, and you don’t want to lose any of your hard-earned salaries. Who knows when you’ll need to escape the country at a moment’s notice?

Levi never joins in on the poker, either. He spends his time in a similar fashion to yours, blandly staring out of the window. In fact, even the way you sit is so eerily similar to your Capo that Robert and Georgie sometimes refer to you as _Levi piccolo_. The name always earns them two identical glares.

Today looks to be another very uneventful day.

Or so you thought.

After a few minutes, the soldato Robert sent to get him more booze comes out of the backroom, scratching his neck.

“We’re out of whiskey,” he announces to the rest. Georgie pauses where he was in the middle of dealing the cards for a new round of poker. Robert blinks at the soldato.

Levi hops on his feet from the windowsill and walks to the back to check. A dozen minutes later, he comes out with a list.

“We need to restock,” he announces. You keep your eyes glued outside, listening intently but pretending not to. This might be a chance.

“Robert, make a trip on Friday,” Levi orders. Robert nods and points at the two soldatos whose names you still can’t recall.

“You two come with me.”

The soldatos exchange confused looks. They’re almost as new as you.

“Where exactly do we get the whiskey?”

“We have a distillery in Iowa that makes high-grade whiskey. We’ll drive over to get some Friday night,” Robert grunts.

“Iowa? We’re going out of state?” one of them asks.

_Ask them when,_ you plead in your mind.

“When?”

You have to hold yourself back from smiling.

“We leave from here at six p.m. Friday night,” Robert decides with a sigh. “We operate with a small team that’s harder to detect. Me plus you two,” he points at the soldatos. ”Only one car, any more and we risk the coppers getting interested.”

“Does this take all night?” one of them asks with a suffering sigh. “I have a sheba I promised to take to the dances.”

“Then you’ll have to cancel, lad,” Robert informs him. The soldato tries to hide his sour face but he’s clearly dissatisfied as he nods.

You keep staring out of the window, seemingly very uninterested. Though, you feel Levi’s sharp eyes on you, assessing your reaction.

“What do we do with whiskey deliveries until then?” you ask, seemingly more engrossed with how to keep your customers happy. You get a cut of the deliveries made after all.

“Tell them to hold on until we restock, they’ll have their booze by Saturday morning,” Levi says. He gives Robert a small glare.

“If you’re going to drink out of our stock, at least keep an eye on the inventory so we don’t run out like this,” he reprimands. Robert gives him a meek grin.

“Sorry, Capo.”

“It’s alright. I’m perfectly happy with deducting the cost of the trip and the restock from your cut this month and calling it even,” Levi replies steadily. Robert grows pale and his jaw starts shaking a little.

“But… But whiskey is very expensive, Capo,” he tries.

“If you knew that, then why did you drink out of stock?” comes the silky reply. You can’t help but note that his low, smooth voice rings down your whole spine and makes your skin prickle.

You have a fleeting thought, wondering what it would feel like to hear the vibrations of that smooth voice against the shell of your ear while his hands push into your pants to rub your slick groin-

Nope. Not going there. You shake the thought.

When you go home that evening, you draw the curtains as you always do, pretend you don’t notice the soldato Levi sent to keep an eye on you for the night and plop on the creaky bed with a map.

Friday. It’s a bit tight but you can make it work.

You look over the map absent-mindedly while tossing your shirt off and unwrapping the bandages from your chest.

Iowa. If they leave at six in the evening, you could expect them to be back around two in the morning.

You can make it work. You just need to do some preparations.

-

When you’re permitted to leave on Friday, it’s almost nine. Robert and his soldatos have already left for their trip, and you feel Levi’s eyes on your back as you start cycling back.

Without a doubt, Levi has someone tailing you today as well and someone will keep an eye on the motel you’re staying at.

It took you around a week to notice the added surveillance, but by now you’ve already come up with a plan to get out of the motel undetected should the need arise.

You’ve done some planning. You have concluded the most likely route Robert is going to take to Iowa and you have decided on a course of action for all possible scenarios you can think of.

When you walk inside your motel room, you draw the curtains as usual. You toss your white cotton shirt off and undo the bandages.

You take out your suitcase from under the bed and open it. You brought these with you. Just in case.

You take the wig of long, brown hair and the fancy Friday getup. You were never a person who likes fancy dresses, parties or getting presentable, but you brought different kinds of female apparel with you for disguise purposes.

Turns out it comes in handy.

You go to the bathroom and start to meticulously remove any and all hair from your legs and armpits. You will have to make sure no one sees your bare legs for a couple of weeks after this, but you don’t think it’ll pose a serious issue.

You come out of the bathroom, sweet-smelling and groomed. You don’t have any make-up, but you doubt it’ll be necessary.

The panties feel odd after such a long time of using men’s underwear. You also pull on a brassiere before slipping the flapper dress over your head. You need to pass as a lady on her way to a party.

You never got very used to using heels, and thus you buckle a little at first once you pull them on. The wig of long, brown hair is the last thing you put on. When you glance at the old, smudgy mirror in the corner, you can hardly recognise yourself.

You were never a lady so to speak. You never liked being in dresses, your hair never grew past your shoulders. Always more interested in other things. Now, however, you can’t help but wonder if you’d have a different life would you have focused on wooing some rich lord instead of honing your gun skills and hustling to make a buck.

It’s not that no one ever approached you, it’s that you systemically turned everyone down.

You look over your feminine reflection and then shake your head a little. No. If you didn’t carry out this vengeance, you would forever live with a void in your chest.

Your family demands justice and you will not get it from the police or court.

You grab your gun and some spare ammo and push it in your handbag along with the key to your room and some thin rope.

When the clock strikes half-past ten, you turn off the lamp in your room. To be sure, you stuff some clothes under the covers to mimic a human shape. Just in case someone sneaks in to check whether you’re really there.

Then, you wait another thirty minutes before leaving your room.

As you step out of the front door to the lit streets, it’s already dark around you. You see the soldato, a young lad in a trench coat and top hat, that Levi sent to keep an eye on you. Instinctively, he retreats into the alleyway to avoid detection.

You pretend not to notice him and clutch your handbag over your shoulder as you hurry past him down the main street.

It would be much quicker to use your bike, but that’s out of the question for obvious reasons.

You walk by a few people on your way to the street corner where you’ve decided to execute your plan. It’s located around half a mile from the coffee shop in a quiet industrial area, close enough to enemy territory for it to seem like a heist when you disturb their journey back. It’s one of the less used streets and it offers alleyways to hide in should things go awry.

And of all the routes Robert could take to drive through the city, he’ll most likely choose one that crosses here because it’s less crowded and monitored than the busier streets near the centre.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you finally make it to the corner in question. Your feet are sore in your heels, and you feel sorely tempted to take them off.

You will probably have to wait for a couple of hours. You retreat into the darkness of the alleyway and wait.

You don’t see too many cars drive by but each time one does, you briefly peek your head out of the alley to make sure it’s not Robert’s.

You think of Levi and his massive attitude towards you. You wonder if he’ll ever learn to trust you or if you’ll have to carry out the whole revenge under his hawk gaze.

You lean against the cold brick wall, concealed by the darkness of the night, just a bit chilly even though it’s already late September.

You wonder, once again, why Levi saved you. Such a ruthless _Caporegime_. He’s shown zero emotion ordering hits on people while you’ve been working under him.

You think of the woman you shot and feel a lump in your throat, even if it’s only for a moment. The small remainder of your humanity and remorse.

The hours trickle by slowly, but finally a car moves past the alleyway, and when you peek your head out, you can immediately tell it’s Robert’s.

Immediately, you dart out to the empty, nightly street. You wave your arms, running after the car with a feigned look of terror on your face.

“Please, stop! I’m begging you, help!” you call after the car. On purpose, you trip and fall down to make yourself look extra vulnerable. As you do, you subtly slip your hand in your purse to keep the gun at hand. Just in case.

Ultimately, they could just keep driving and your efforts would be in vain, but you happen to know that the Moretti family has a strict code of chivalry.

Thus, the car immediately pulls to a halt and the three men shoot out in unison to check on you.

“_Signorina_! Are you alright?”

You sit up and hang your head to conceal your face. From the corner of your eye, you see the three of them hover around you.

“Allow me to help you up,” you hear Robert’s voice, and his plump hand extends towards you.

You grab his hand with your free one, doing your best to keep your face down. He helps you on your feet.

Immediately, you press against his chest to hide your face and fake a convincing sob. He smells strongly like whiskey and pungent aftershave. He’s obviously had a few drinks on his way back. That makes things easier for you.

“Please help, sir, I am being followed,” you sniffle, clutching the gun inside your purse. You subtly use your other hand to push inside Robert’s coat.

While he’s busy trying to calm down your hysteric sobs by clumsily patting your back, you reach for his gun. You know he always keeps it holstered against the left side of his waist, and you easily find the handle and pull the gun out without him noticing.

With a weapon in both hands, you move your face away from Robert’s chest to look over his shoulder and locate the two soldatos with him.

“Calm down, bim, there’s no need to panic. We will deal with your pursuer,” Robert promises. You could almost feel sorry for him if he wasn’t a disgusting piece of shit who works for an organisation that routinely kills entire families.

You look over Robert’s shoulder. The two soldatos are right behind him, and it takes them a couple of seconds to recognise your face. In unison, their faces turn from concern to confusion.

“Wait a second,” one of them starts.

You simultaneously click the hammer back on both guns.

“Aren’t you-!”

Before either of them can even think to draw their guns, you quickly loop your arms over Robert’s shoulders, aim and shoot both clean in the head.

They instantly slump down. Robert, struggling to grasp what’s going on, only has time to shove you away with a flabbergasted expression and futilely reach for the empty holster at his side.

You aim both guns at him. He realises you managed to disarm him while he was distracted, and it takes him a couple of seconds to recognise you.

“The new kiddo,” he manages. He looks up and down your feminine appearance. “Isaac. What the hell is thi-?”

He cuts himself off and takes a long look at your face.

”Are you actually…?”

“The name’s Ida,” you enlighten him. “Hands in the air and get back to the car. We need to talk.”

He takes a moment too long to obey, obviously doubting your willingness to maim him thanks to your gender and non-threatening attire.

Without even pausing to debate it, you keep one gun pointed at his head. With the other, you shoot him clean in the kneecap.

“Hurry up.”

Robert lets out a gurgling scream and immediately falls to his knees.

“You fucking bitch!” he seethes.

“You still have one knee cap left. If you don’t want to lose it, I suggest you get in the car,” you tell him dully. You can only thank your luck there are not many apartment buildings around this part of town and it’s so late practically no one’s out. Otherwise, you would have to keep an eye out for concerned citizens coming out to see what the commotion is about.

Robert gives you a blood-chilling glare but, being at a loss, obeys and painstakingly limps to the car.

“Driver’s seat,” you command and climb to the front seat.

“Where to, miss?” he asks with biting sarcasm, pearls of sweat rolling down his temples as he reaches to start the car.

Maybe you underestimated Robert, after all. Giving you an attitude with a shattered knee cap and a gun pointed at his head was more than you deemed him capable of.

Who knows, maybe you would have gotten along as two sarcastic bastards if you had the chance to get acquainted.

You keep one gun pointed at him as you close the door after yourself.

“Clearwater Docks.”

Robert starts driving, swerving just a little bit every time he has to use his injured leg to press the clutch.

“So, what’s this all about? You a mole for the _Ricci_ _famiglia_?”

“No.”

“Well, I’d like to think they have more spine than sending a doll like you of all things to infiltrate our mafia,” he chuckles. You keep both guns trained on him as you drive through the nightly streets.

“Just keep driving, Robert.”

A surprisingly relaxed silence falls between you. Robert seems to have come in grips with things sooner than expected. Then again, being a mafia _soldato_, he must long since have accepted that as much as he lived by the gun, he must also die by it.

As he pulls over to the docks and turns off the car, you open the passenger side door.

“Out of the car and into the backseat,” you order steadily. He lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“I have a busted knee cap, you could at least try to cut a guy some slack,” he complains but obeys nonetheless. You take the car keys and push them in your pocket before climbing out of the car and joining Robert on the back seat.

“I need information,” you tell him.

“I gathered as much. You wouldn’t have brought me all the way here if you didn’t. Had you wanted the moonshine you could’ve just killed me and taken it. And I doubt you wanted to grant me one final lay before letting me out of my misery,” Robert points out dryly as he leans against the door and crosses his plump arms.

You snort a joyless chuckle and lock eyes with him.

“Eleven years ago, the Moretti family carried out what they called _Operazione Pulizia_. They eliminated a large catalogue of high-profile police officers who had been grilling the Moretti family and tried to sack the don. Were you in the _famiglia_ when it happened?”

“Doll, I was in the _famiglia_ when you were but a seed in your father’s balls. Of course, I was a part of it. Everyone was.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Who planned the operation?”

Robert laughs, his chins jiggling as he does.

“You think I will tell you anything?” he scoffs. “You will not get any information out of me, no matter how much you torture me. So, I suggest you just shoot me and be done with it.”

Ah. You wondered when he would start protesting. That’s alright. You went digging.

“Your death is a certainty,” you admit nonchalantly. “What isn’t decided is the fate of Gabriella, Lucia and Luca.”

Mentioning the name of Robert’s beloved wife and twin toddlers has the desired effect. His eyes fly open and his teeth grit together.

“They have nothing to do with this!” he hisses.

“Neither did my mother and my sister,” you retort calmly. “Yet your clean-up operation killed them indiscriminately. I’m not eager to kill your family, Robert, but I will if you turn out to be uncooperative. Just to set the example for the next person I interrogate.”

“Are you truly a woman?” he asks, disgusted with your emotionless eyes. You hum.

“Who knows. The last few weeks have made me think that being a man might not be as bad.”

“Forget men and women. A devil, that’s what you are!” he lashes out, to a minimal reaction. You blink at him dully.

“Will you give me the information or not?”

_Omertà _or no _omertà_, no man would choose the death of his family should there be another way. Robert realises the fact and sighs deeply.

“The _don_ planned it with the _Consigliere _and a handful of Capos.”

“Name the Capos.”

“Giovanni Marino, Max Schiavone, Valerio D’Agostino,” Robert lists. You memorise the names and nod to yourself.

“And Levi?” you ask. “What was his role in this?”

“He was a teen runt at the time, all he did was point and shoot as ordered,” Robert recalls.

You frown. Then why did he save you? If he had no connection to the operation aside from being a regular _soldato_, why did he save you when he’s continuously shown he’s capable of cold-blooded murder no matter who it is?

Either way, it seems like Robert has now exhausted his usefulness. All you wanted was the names. Your hit list.

“I will stay away from your wife and kids,” you promise as you point the gun to Robert’s forehead. “This is nothing personal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robert grunts, “just get it over with, doll.”

You clip him with a clean shot to the head. He slumps down and the blood starts pouring out of his forehead onto the leather seat. You don’t feel anything even though you probably should. Just another casualty among the rest.

You get out of the car. You need to drive to the steep cliff next to this beach and get rid of the evidence.

Only, you don’t get as far. The second you step out of the car, someone’s waiting for you. You hear the click of a gun and you don’t have to turn to know you’re currently being held at gunpoint.

“Freeze and drop your weapons,” comes an order from behind you. You pause, for just a second, and then let out a small, relieved chuckle when you recognise the voice.

Of all the people.

“It’s been a while, Mr Zacharias,” you hum and turn to face the older man. You look over the dirty blonde locks that just barely reach his ears, the small, trimmed moustache and the small patch of groomed beard on his chin.

The long coat, the top hat, the revolver pointed at your head and the detective’s badge, glistening in his chest pocket just the tiniest bit thanks to the generous moonlight.

He looks exactly as you remembered him.

His eyes widen, and he instantly lowers his gun.

“Miss Ida? Whatever are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story. One that I now apparently must share with you.”

He glances over your shoulder at the mess in the backseat.

“And the man?”

“Robert Di Moze of the _Moretti famiglia_,” you enlighten him. He blinks, clearly taken aback. He doesn’t know how to approach the situation at all.

“And you were the one who shot him?”

“Yes.”

There’s really no point in trying to hide it.

“Why?”

“As I said, it’s a long story. Before I tell it to you, however, I need to get rid of the evidence before the _Morettis_ discover their precious booze missing and start tracking this car.”

You move towards the driver’s side. The man raises his gun again.

“Don’t move. You’ve admitted to murder and that this car is full of illegal alcohol. And you think I’m about to allow you to get rid of all this evidence?” he asks incredulously.

You give him an uncanny smile.

“The only way you can stop me is to shoot me. And I know for a fact that you have a rather soft spot for me, Mr Zacharias. Could you bear to kill me?” you ask with just a little bit of vivacity as you walk to the driver’s seat. The kind you know he’s weak for.

The man weighs his options for a while, but eventually, he lowers his gun with a deep sigh and a resigned smile.

“You know me all too well, Miss Ida. But I will require to know everything after you dispose of the body and the car. That’s my bargain.”

You climb on the driver’s seat and grin at the man.

“Deal.”

Gesturing at the front seat, your smile never wavers. The man gives you a suspicious look.

“Last I saw you, Miss Ida, you were hopeless behind the wheel.”

“I’ve been practising since you attempted to teach me three years ago, Mr Zacharias. Get on.”

After a long period of deliberation, he finally obeys. He climbs on, though looking extremely wary.

“Nice outfit,” he realises as you back out of the docks and start driving towards the cliff.

“You old flirt,” you chuckle.

“Only when it’s you, Miss Ida.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minimal Levi this chapter, sorry about that. Had to execute those pesky plot points. I know, right, who cares about plot when Levi could be stepping on Reader right now?! But, at least Reader got to be a proper, stone-cold badass.
> 
> And yes, Mike Zacharias has entered the field. As for who he is and how Ida knows him, I guess you can maybe gather something from the small clues I handed but you'll learn the full story next chapter!
> 
> I love comments. They keep me going. So, if you have the time to spare to make my day, please consider leaving one! :)


	5. The Witch Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part where this fic turns E-rated for explicit smut. It will get rough and even rougher in future chapters. Just a warning. Look away children ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

By the moment you’re finishing your long and complicated tale of revenge, Mike is holding his head in despair, his drink forgotten on the table of his small, dirty apartment. After a brief back and forth as you disposed of the car and body, he agreed to take you back to his when you insisted you can’t discuss anything in a public setting.

You never know who’s listening.

Mike has moved since last time. His apartment is nowadays near the main road and you can hear cars driving back and forth right under his window.

His apartment is every bit as much of a man cave as you recall, with bottles of alcohol scattered around along with empty cans of food, half-drunk coffee mugs and worn clothes.

Mike, while an excellent detective, was never a tidy person.

“So, I’ll be working for the mafia until I’ve killed everyone responsible for the purge,” you say. You take off your wig and can’t help but notice Mike’s unhappy wince.

He looks into his glass of beer and then takes a long swig.

“You are out of your goddamn mind, Miss Ida,” he then starts reprimanding you. “This is far too dangerous for a doll such as yourself. Forget them ever finding out you’re working for them to kill them, they’ll shoot you dead if they as much as find out you’re a woman and have cheapened their code of conduct with your stunt!”

“Spare the lecture, _father_,” you dryly cut in and get on your feet. “I’m not here to ask for your blessing. If you wish to stop me, then sell me out.”

You know Mike would never. It was your father who trained him how to be a police officer and it was a stroke of luck that he was out of the city and avoided _Operazione Pulizia _eleven years ago.

Since then, he’s been a presence in your life, sending cards and gifts during Christmas and your birthday, begrudgingly teaching you how to shoot and drive better. He even courted you during your later teens, feeling like he owed his former instructor to take care of his daughter for him.

At least, that’s what you surmised it to be. Nonetheless, you politely turned him down and told him you wish to not marry. Even back then, you knew you would devote your time for revenge.

“Miss Ida, this is not a child’s play. You could get killed,” Mike insists with gritted teeth. You turn for the door but he stops you by gently grasping your arm.

“I can’t let you go out there knowing what you’re up to. This is too dangerous. We’re going to get your aunt and I’ll send you to London.”

“You’re not my father nor my husband, Mr Zacharias. I do as I please.”

“That much is painfully obvious,” he mutters and shakes his head. “Think of your father. How would he feel, knowing his only surviving child is wasting her life on some self-serving revenge-?”

“If you’re trying to persuade me to give up on my revenge, you’re not doing a very good job. What you are doing a good job at is discouraging me from telling you things from now on,” you tell him with biting snark.

Mike sighs and his grip on your arm tightens.

“Miss Ida, I am a detective. I will arrest you if I have to in order to keep you away from the mafia.”

Your eyes flash, you snatch your gun and point it at Mike, just to see he’s caught onto your plan and done the same.

You stare each other down for a second.

“How did you even find me on that beach?”

“I was on my way home from patrolling when someone stopped me and told me they saw someone driving very unsteadily and suspected the driver was drunk and that they went in the direction of the beach. Them cocaine addicts sometimes handle deals on that beach so I decided to go check just in case. I didn’t expect to meet you there.”

You keep your gun trained on his head. He sighs.

“I know you’re a good shooter, but I was still quicker a year ago when we last had a match.”

“I know. But considering your objective is trying to keep me alive, I doubt you’re going to shoot me in the head.”

He gives you a half-hearted glare and then pulls his weapon back.

“You got me,” he admits with a frustrated sigh.

“I know what I’m doing. Just stay out of my way and if you really want to be of help, go check on Aunt Helen every now and then. I left someone to take care of her but she could use some company.”

“She still live in that old, rusty apartment near the East Boulevard?”

“You’re not one to speak,” you say with an updrawn eyebrow. “This place is a mess.”

“It lacks the touch of a woman,” Mike hums with a suggestive smile. You shake your head, but you can’t be too rough on him. You give in and smile just a little.

Then, finally, you holster your weapon.

“Just stand back and stay out of my way. You lads haven’t been able to bring my family justice, it’s time I do it on my own.”

Mike tries to glare at you again, but he can’t help the fond smile.

“If you survive this senseless massacre, will you at least then settle down and live as a proper lady?”

“Are you asking me to marry you again?” you ask nonchalantly as you move to the door. Luckily, Mike’s apartment isn’t too far from your motel.

“You wouldn’t want to end up a spinster, now would you? I’m willing to take care of you, Miss Ida, if you would just allow me.”

You pause. Up until now, you haven’t entertained the notion of marrying. But if by any miracle you survive this, what then? You were going to sail to London and live your days there, lying low with Aunt Helen.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally relent. Mike looks happy, it’s further than he’s ever gotten with you. Or any woman during his 36 years of living. He’s rather hopeless with women, and as far as you know, you’re the only one he’s seriously courted.

“Miss Ida,” Mike hurries after you and cups your cheek fondly. “Just… Please, be careful.”

You chuckle and put your wig back on.

“I’ll be alright, Mr Zacharias. You know what they say, like father like daughter. I never miss.” You pat your purse where you put the gun and step outside.

“I’ll see you around. You know the motel I stay at. Don’t come over unless you have to, though, I’d hate for my _Capo_ to find out cops regularly hang out at where I stay.”

“I know. I’m not dumb,” Mike mutters. “Just… Visit me when you have the chance. Or at least write.”

“I’ll do my best,” you hum. His eyes soften and he brushes his thumb over your cheekbone. “Think about the betrothal, okay?”

“I will.”

With that, you leave the apartment, mulling over the happenstances of the night as you do.

-

You’re not surprised in the least when the following morning, you’re met with the sight of Levi waiting for you outside with his car. You step out, wearing your usual gear, and look convincingly puzzled as you walk up to him.

“Since when have you acted as my chauffeur?”

Levi looks like his nerves are already on the verge of snapping as is.

“Shut up and get in.”

With a confused shrug, you do as you’re told.

“I hope you’ll at least tell me what my offence is this time before pointing another gun at my head,” you hum as Levi starts driving.

You don’t recognise where he’s taking you. It’s not the coffee house nor the Moretti mansion. It’s only when the houses around you get older and more rotten that you get a little nervous.

“You about to take me back to the woods?” you ask, trying to sound calm and just well-meaningly curious.

“No.”

You sigh, hoping this won’t be as much of a headache as it was last time. You settle a temperate yet tired smile on your face as Levi finally parks in front of a tall, abandoned building. He drags you in, through what looks like an abandoned office building.

You know for a fact that this district used to be home to a small but lively stock market that got shut down when the mafia started playing their hand at which local businesses were and weren’t allowed to thrive.

And as a natural extension, the mafia started dictating which stocks were and weren’t allowed to be purchased. Thus, the companies soon closed their doors and switched cities. This looks to be one of those affairs.

Levi easily takes you to the roof. He kicks you to the edge of the six-storey building. You’re looking at a good 60-feet fall. Surely fatal unless you land on something very soft.

“Nice little operation you had going last night,” Levi tells you and takes out his gun, pointing it to your head. “Throw your gun away.”

You sigh and do as you’re told. You look down the deadly fall and feel a rush of adrenaline. It excites you almost as much as it unnerves you.

You feel Levi’s presence behind you, you can picture the cold, hard eyes in your mind. And like last time, it arouses you.

Maybe it’s because it was Levi who allowed you to live all those years ago but you find the combination of him and mortal danger irresistible.

Suddenly, he’s behind you. You hear the click of his gun as he pulls the hammer back. He grabs your hair roughly and pulls your head back.

Your breathing gets short as you feel his voice vibrate against the shell of your ear.

“Nothing to say?”

“What exactly are you talking about?” you ask with a throaty voice.

“The booze got seized and everyone delivering the load got killed aside from Rob who’s currently missing. No one expects him to be alive, though. He was never the type to run off with a load of booze despite your best efforts of framing it like that.”

“You think I did all that? Killed three made men by myself and got rid of the car?”

“You and whoever you work for. It’s time to come clean. Who are you working with? The Ricci _famiglia_?”

You almost smile, recalling how Robert asked the very same thing.

“I have no clue what you’re saying. If you’re so convinced I’m behind this, why did you bring me here and not in front of the don?”

At that, Levi’s grip tightens from painful to punishing and he presses the gun tightly against your temple.

“Don’t play smart with me, kid. I know you’re to thank. Where’s the load?”

_In your pants soon by the sound of your voice_, you think to yourself and try to tone down the myriad of aroused thoughts entering your brain.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. How do you know it was me anyway?”

The more you have time to think, the more you realise Levi has no proof. If he did, he would already have told don Moretti about it. He’s just trying to make you crack under pressure. Again.

“I know it was you because you’re obviously a fraud. You’re no 17-year-old boy from Alabama here to support his mother, you’re a worm. A contagion that needs to be stomped out before it spreads. And now, I will either get the truth out of you or kick you off this building.”

“Going for that staged suicide angle? I thought you were a man of culture,” you sass him just a little. If he’s going to kill you anyway, you might as well give him snark while trying to decipher how to get out of this mess.

“Where were you last night?” Levi growls. You bite your lip to hold back a moan.

“Why don’t you ask your lackey? I’m rather sure he knows exactly when I entered my motel last night.”

The silence tells you Levi has already asked him and gotten nothing of value out of him. After all, he saw you go in and didn’t witness you come out until morning.

“You knew you were being followed and didn’t do anything about it? Why?” he asks.

“Thought you’d have the decency to stop after weeks of nothing. Turns out I held you in too high a regard.”

He yanks your head further back with an enraged hiss. You’re really getting on his nerves. And the thought is unbelievably sexy.

“Then, who did you tell about the trip to Iowa?”

He rips your hair a little and you can’t help the throaty moan.

The second Levi realises what you’re moaning about, he abruptly releases his hold. His gun remains directed at your head, but he’s no longer touching you.

“You disgust me,” he tells you, voice hostile and revolted, but there’s still a small twinge of confusion underneath it all.

“Then why do you keep putting us in a situation like this? You could just have taken me to the don,” you remind him with a small grin.

You look around the empty yard below. It only has Levi’s car on it, in addition to a large container of rubbish, covered by a blanket of some sort. You can’t see what’s underneath. Could be hay, could be metal pipes.

“You’re not going to get anything out of me, Capo,” you try one last time to explain to Levi. “I have nothing to do with anything.”

“Then you’ll die knowing you were innocent,” Levi says and aims his boot with a merciless glint to his eyes.

“Ever heard of the witch trials where they tested whether the suspect was a witch by throwing her in the lake with stone shoes?”

“Don’t get smart with me, kid. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Because I know you did it.”

You throw him a small grin. You still have no idea what’s on the pile of rubbish.

Only one way to find out.

“Alright then. You win. See ya.”

Before Levi can kick you, you run and leap off the building. You hear Levi yell something incomprehensible after you, and as you fall you anticipate gunshots.

They don’t come.

You land on the pile of trash. You feel your body connect with something soft.

It still hurts like hell. You feel bruises, instantly forming all over your body, and it’s only thanks to the generous amount of pillows you landed on that you're alive at all. You really just keep cheating death.

Either these stock traders loved their naps or these are from a nearby shutdown hotel.

At least they smell positively stuffy.

You don’t have a long time to think about it when you feel a rough hand grabbing your arm. You’re still a little disoriented by the fall and you stumble as you're dragged back inside.

The moment you’re back in the large hallway with rotten, wooden walls and just a few moth-eaten, abandoned pieces of furniture scattered around, you’re pressed against the wall.

Levi’s gun is pointed at your head again, and his eyes are dark and stormy.

“What the fuck did you do that for?”

“Did what?” you smile obnoxiously.

“Jumped off a fucking building. Did you know you would land on something soft?”

“No.”

“Then why the fuck did you do that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you said you would kick me off anyway. I just did what you wanted me to,” you point out with a raised eyebrow. Levi’s jaws clench together and for a second, he looks like he’s going to blow your brains out.

“You’re the most reckless, craziest son of a bitch I have ever seen,” he spits out hatefully.

Before you can answer, he’s grabbed your neck and reeled you in. A startled squeak leaves your mouth as Levi holsters his weapon, grabs your head in his hands and presses you into the rotten wall, his mouth crashing onto of yours.

The adrenaline is still pumping through both of your veins. The knowledge that, once again, the only thing that saved you from death was copious amounts of sheer luck, makes you incredibly aroused.

You tilt your head, release a throaty moan and sink your hand in his hair. You relax against the wall and allow him to pin you down, one of his hands slipping into your hair, the other grabbing your waist to pull you tight against him.

His mouth is feverish and full of want. The way he rakes his front teeth over your lower lip, the way his tongue swipes into your mouth, stealing your breath, the way you feel hot puffs of air against your lips every time he pulls back, just for the tiniest moment, to breathe, before pushing you back up against the wall and kissing you again.

“Capo,” you breathe, but he doesn’t respond. As you regain any resemblance of sanity and try to place a hand on his chest to pull things to a halt, at least long enough to ask why he’s doing this, he immediately grabs your wrist and pins it next to your head.

You moan in a wanton manner, you feel the arousal in your underwear, the slickness spreading every time you move your legs. His free hand grabs your throat, and the added pressure on your windpipe makes you tremble with excitement.

You’re ready to get whisked away by him, make out until your lips are swollen and red while feeling his hands keep you down until he decides he’s done having his way with you.

Levi pulls back quite suddenly. Your lidded eyes meet his hard and assertive gaze. He’s obviously riled up, his breathing is a bit off and there’s a tint equally unnerving and exciting in the way he looks at you.

Then, without a word, he grabs your shoulder, turns you around and slams you into the wall chest first.

You hear the wood make a wailing sound under the impact and briefly, you’re worried about the whole damn thing collapsing.

Then, however, you start worrying about something worse. You feel Levi’s hot breath against the nape of your neck, his rough hands grabbing your hips and yanking them back so your ass perks up.

You feel something hard press against your butt, and you realise it’s his hardon.

He’s going to fuck you. Not only is he going to fuck you in this sorry, mouldy excuse of a building, but he’s also going to fuck you with the assumption that you’re a guy.

He will only need to pull your pants down to find out the truth. And as much as the thought of Levi finding out you’re a woman and then punishing you by ramming his length inside you until your voice is hoarse from screaming _sorry_, you can’t let that happen.

“Wait,” you breathe. Your hand leaps to stop his where it’s itching towards the buckle of your belt. He pauses, but only briefly.

“What?” he asks, impatient and clearly aroused. He bites the skin on your neck, just under the hairline, and you can’t help the deep moan that makes you release.

“Wait. Let me-”

You turn around and give him a meaningful look. He looks at you with an unreadable expression as you slowly get down on your knees before him.

“I can…” you trail off and blush. Despite your tough girl act, you’ve never done anything of this nature. You haven’t as much as kissed anyone before. “I mean… Can I?”

Levi looks at you, the way you lick your lips. He’s clearly contemplating it. If he’ll make do with just that or if he’s going to fuck you silly after all. Then, finally, he slips a hand into your hair and yanks you in. Your nose bumps against the bulge in his pants, and you swallow.

“Nuzzle.”

You look up, and the nerves in your eyes only excite him further. He groans, his hand tightens in your hair and he presses you tighter against himself.

Obedient and wetter than you’d care to admit, you nuzzle and mouth at his erection through the fabric of his neatly ironed pants. You see his gun from the corner of your eye, holstered but ready to go, and it makes you even more aroused.

Levi keeps one hand in your hair, holding you still, while he undoes his pants with the other. As his cock is released and in full view, you feel your mouth go a bit dry.

You’ve never seen a dick before and now that there’s one right in front of you, hard and straining and belonging to a person who just moments ago was about to kill you, you can’t help the small whimper.

“Look at me.”

You turn your eyes upwards to meet Levi’s. His gaze is even darker than usual. The domineering glint sends a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t expect me to return the favour. I’m your Capo, you live to serve me. You got it?”

“Yes,” you breathe immediately. It turns you on. And it also solves the problem of not having a dick for him to suck.

“Keep your eyes on me and open your mouth. Put your tongue out.”

You do as you’re told. You keep your wide eyes on Levi as he places the tip of his cock on top of your outstretched tongue.

He clearly has a way he prefers this done. He’s probably had people on their knees before him in the past. Suddenly, you recall the way the don’s daughter waved at him.

You doubt he’s this harsh with any of the fine ladies he beds. He thinks you’re a guy. He thinks you’re someone he can throw around.

And he’s not wrong.

Done having him call all the shots, you open your jaw wide and move forward, taking as much of him in your mouth as you can.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and cough a little.

“If your teeth as much as touch it, I’m going to beat the shit out of you,” Levi tells you with a low, intimate voice. Immediately, you moan and start to eagerly move your head.

You don’t have experience and you don’t really know what you’re doing, but common sense tells you that as long as you get your mouth on every inch of his cock that you can manage, he’ll be happy.

Levi guides your head by the hand in your hair, tightening when he wants you to go deeper and pulling you back when he wants it slow and sloppy.

Your eyes never leave his, shifting from wide and innocent to dark and sultry, your emotions move as he fucks your mouth and you allow him to.

When he finally decides to just go for it and keep you still by your hair while his hips start thrusting until you feel the tip hit the back of your throat, you don’t try to push him off. Instead, you grasp the base of his erection and rub it in rhythm, your mouth wide open around his prick as he uses you.

And the worst thing is, the rougher he is with you, the wetter you can feel yourself becoming. You moan and whimper and more than once, you imagine what it would feel like if he pulled you on your feet, pushed you back against that wall and fucked your ass after all.

You can see it in Levi’s eyes; he’s tempted. It’s clear in the way he pushes into your mouth, just a little frustrated when the way your tongue slips around the tip each time doesn’t substitute perfectly for the real thing.

Regardless, he fucks you hard, into the back of your throat, making you serve him with your mouth until he finally comes with a guttural groan, his hand fisting your hair unbelievably hard.

As he pulls back, chest heaving and eyes now thoughtful on you, you wonder what to do. Then, finally, your eyes still trained on his, you swallow and open your mouth to show him there’s nothing left.

Levi looks an odd mixture of impressed and weirded out. Must be the first time someone does this instead of coughing out his seed.

“You look like you’re used to doing this,” he points out.

“I’m not,” you deny. “I’ve never…”

You blush a little, your shameless actions only now fully dawning on you. Your father would be rolling in his grave.

“Neither have I with another male. And if you ever tell anybody about this, I’ll cut your tongue off.”

“Who would I tell? It’s equally illegal for both of us,” you point out and get back on your feet. Levi fastens his pants back on and turns for the door.

“Let’s go, then.”

“Where?”

“Iowa. The don’s wife has her birthday next weekend and we don’t have nearly enough booze to cover for the party. Plus, we need to make up for the booze we lost last night. You’re coming with me.”

You pause.

“You planned to take me to fetch booze with you?”

“What of it?” Levi asks as he stops before his car and turns to give you an impatient look.

“Does that mean you were never going to kick me off?”

“Get in the car, kid,” Levi orders with a grunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Looks like Levi might be into some gay shit. Not that we judge him. Also, hope you don't mind that Levi and Ida will have this whole dom/sub dynamic going on haha ^^; I can't imagine them vanilla, wish I could (except I don't!)
> 
> Aand we have the added character of Mike, poor guy who tries to win the lady by being a nice person and looking after her while Levi's here making her drool by threatening to kill her every few weeks lol.
> 
> I love comments. They keep me going. I now have a much better plan on where this story is going (thanks, Jess!), so hopefully I can keep a coherent narrative from now on haha. So, if you have a moment, please let me know what you thought of this chapter (and the whole thing that's now budding between Levi and Reader).
> 
> Until next time!


	6. The Smell of a Woman

By the time Levi speaks up the first time during the car ride to Iowa, your mood has already shifted from excited and adrenaline-filled to kind of lukewarm and confused. The arousal in your panties has cooled down to an inconvenient mess, and you can’t help but move restlessly where you’re sitting in the front seat.

“How’s your ma?”

You blink at Levi. You were never friends and he knows nothing about your supposed mother. Why is he asking?

“She’s… Fine?” you offer with a harmless shrug. Levi makes no move to touch you nor does he address what just happened. Every time you recall back to the moment; you, on your knees, servicing Levi with your mouth like some common escort, you feel equal parts horrified and excited.

The landscape turns more and more rural by the hour and soon, there’s nothing to watch aside from fields and dull wilderness.

You glance at Levi, whose eyes are glued to the road. He hasn’t asked you further questions. Maybe you should ask some of your own?

“Capo,” you start carefully.

“What?”

“How did you end up joining the mafia?”

Levi’s sharp eyes snap to you, and he looks extremely suspicious.

“How is that any of your concern?”

You shrug sheepishly and wince. Levi’s still not a conversationalist.

“I was just curious about you.” Mainly because you just sucked his dick, but also because you want to know why he spared you eleven years ago. You’re still none the closer to the truth.

“Don’t misunderstand. Just because I allowed you to suck me off doesn’t mean we’re dating. I have no intention of getting close with you.”

It stings but just a little since you anticipated as much. You feel tempted to ask whether he wants to do the whole sex thing again in the future, but you decide against it. You don’t want to risk Levi saying yes and demanding to fuck your ass instead of your throat the next time around.

“Alright,” you mutter and hunch morosely in your seat. You’re not surprised you won’t get anything out of Levi but it’s still an annoyance.

It means you’ll have to go snooping behind his back for information.

You feel Levi’s eyes on you, and finally, he sighs.

“I was a street kid who needed to earn a living, that’s it,” he says. He doesn’t seem to be lying. You glance at him, a little surprised he replied to your question. His eyes are trained ahead and he looks thoughtful, a little awkward even.

“You didn’t have any other choice?”

“The other choices were even shittier.”

“You didn’t have parents?”

“I grew up homeless with my mum and she died when I was young. After that, I was left to fend for myself.”

“You didn’t get taken to an orphanage?” you ask and turn to look at Levi properly. He shrugs tensely.

“I was a kid, it didn’t occur to me to turn to officials for support. And it’s not like they actively seek to help homeless kids.”

You feel a tug of sympathy for him. Growing up alone must have been hard for him. While you also lost your parents, thanks to the mafia, you were never alone. Aunt Helen took you in, and Mike tried his best to be a stabilising presence in your life.

“I wonder how many people the mafia has orphaned,” you muse out loud. Aside from you, that is.

“Many.” His reply sounds nonchalant, but you wonder if there’s really no emotion evoked on his behalf.

“Did you ever feel bad about killing anyone?” you dare to pry just a bit further. Levi glances at you suspiciously.

“Why do you ask? You sure as hell didn’t hesitate to kill that one woman.”

“It was kill or be killed,” you defend yourself and huff. “I wasn’t happy about it but I didn’t really have much choice. You would’ve killed me _and _her if I declined.”

Levi’s eyes flash with something unreadable.

“Yeah, I would have.”

“Why are you so convinced I’m a mole anyway,” you mutter. “I’ve done no wrong. My only sin is to be a good shooter.”

“When you look for a fire, you follow the smoke and take out the thing that looks orange and is hot to the touch,” Levi tells you matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes.

“Why are you looking for a fire, then?”

“…What?”

Levi sounds a little caught off guard.

“Why do you expect there to be a fire in the first place? As far as I know, the biggest threat you have is the Riccis, and they have hardly a quarter of your manpower and territory.”

“A large portion of our made men were recently arrested,” he argues.

“Fair enough. I just don’t think you should keep threatening my life based on nothing but circumstantial evidence.”

“You seem to like it when I threaten your life.”

At that, you can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles from your throat. You grin at him.

“You didn’t seem to mind that I liked it.”

“I rarely meet people who are as morally deviant as you,” Levi says and gives you an unreadable look. “Or as batshit crazy.” You laugh, unapologetically so.

“Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to me, Capo.”

“I’m not a homosexual,” he tells you, a little defensively at that.

“You’re just attracted to a boy. No big deal,” you hum, playful.

“Shut your damn mouth. I’m your Capo. You respect me,” he grunts. At his words, you remember the way he looked at you as his hips thrust into your mouth, to the back of your throat-

You shake your head abruptly to shrug the thought.

“Yes,” you say instead and turn to look out of the window, the small flame of attraction and arousal that the memory lit dying down just as fast as it came.

The distillery turns out to be a locally run operation in a remote farm, far beyond the sight of the officials. You and Levi load the car full and drive back in what’s mostly silence. You half expect him to want you to pleasure him while he’s driving to pass the time, but he does no such thing.

As you slip between the sheets, late that night, you feel an odd shudder of anticipation. A large part of you can’t wait for Levi and you to become more closely acquainted.

-

The hall around you is lovely, with numerous people already tipsy, evident in the way they stumble with their dance steps and laugh at the slightest things. Leaning against the wall, you’re keeping watch of the party.

_Don_ Massimo Moretti’s wife’s 57th birthday is the biggest event of the month. The party is nothing short of extravagant, and it gives you your first true glimpse to how wealthy the head of the most prominent mafia figure of your state truly is.

You look at the long table, full of steak and fresh vegetables, the rows of glasses, filled with champagne and red wine. The people flocking around the space are not only mafia members and their families, but a sizeable portion is city and county officials. You even see some minor celebrities, singers and actors of the local theatre venue, standing around the don’s wife, racing to compliment her on the party she’s throwing.

You see the people on the dance floor, hear the clacking of heels and swishing of flapper dresses as the couples, most a little tipsy, dance in rhythm with the live band, playing the latest swing tunes with the horns.

The don himself is not here, but then again you almost never see him. He’s getting old, you hear rumours that he’s mostly bedridden.

Yet, most of the other high-profile mafiosos are here. Your eyes search for the three Robert named before his death.

Giovanni Marino, Max Schiavone, Valerio D’Agostino. The three capos who planned the purge with the don.

Giovanni Marino is large and mean-looking, with a sturdy build and a huge appetite for alcohol. You see him sit at one of the tables by himself, quiet and sullen as one of his lackeys keeps pouring him glass after glass of rum. You know he mostly operates within the mansion these days, working as the don’s assistant and relaying his orders.

Max Schiavone is younger than the other two. He’s hardly hit his forties and he had just been promoted into a _Caporegime_ when the purge happened. Tall, handsome and with a dashing smile, he’s expectedly surrounded by young women. A sworn bachelor, he has a weakness for young women.

You also heard he’s a complete lunatic who loves blood and pain. A sadistic gunslinger. You need to be on guard with him.

Valerio D’Agostino, a middle-aged, balding man, looks like the quiet, reliable and serious type. He’s keeping watch by one of the walls, ignoring the people who approach him. His eyes are sharp and calm as he looks around the saloon, of the seas of partying socialites.

And then there’s _Consigliere_ Marco Rossi. Suspicious of you because of your non-Italian heritage, he was obviously involved in the operation. He was probably even the mastermind behind it.

He’s not here, either. He’s probably attending to the don, along with _Sottocapo_ Manuel Moretti. You don’t know how much the underboss had to do with the purge. You assume not much since he was still a young runt while it happened and hadn’t been appointed second-in-command yet.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicker to Levi. He’s sitting in one of the luscious armchairs, a glass of whiskey in one hand which he periodically sips out of. Around him are three women, perched over the armrests to coo and giggle at him.

They’re all young, pretty and obviously have some serious cash to pour into their appearance. Expensive dresses, glittering jewellery, elaborately weaved hair. You see their crossed legs, the way one leans in to innocently show off her cleavage, the way one places a hand on Levi’s shoulder to lean in and whisper something in his ear.

Levi doesn’t do anything to push them off. Why would he? Even him, for all his cold behaviour and disregard for exchanging pleasantries, must find solace in the touch of a woman. He looks satisfied where he is, a little amused even by the attention he’s receiving.

Levi hasn’t touched you since that one time in the mouldy building he threatened to kick you off of last week. Maybe he doesn’t want to keep doing things with you. As he said himself, he’s not homosexual. And he believes you’re male.

And, an insecure part of your brain interjects, it’s not like he can’t do better than you. The women he’s currently with are beautiful.

You’re not left alone for long, though, when a couple of women spot you and come to you, giggly and obviously intoxicated.

“I haven’t seen you at these parties before,” one of them smiles. She’s maybe in her mid-twenties, with a blonde, pixie cut hair. Her friend looks a little younger, with long, fair hair and emerald eyes.

“I joined recently,” you enlighten them, polite but not very interested. The one with a pixie cut leans in to check your face.

“Oh, he’s so cute. He could pass for a girl!” she observes and reaches a rowdy hand to stroke your smooth cheek. “Look at this, he doesn’t even have a beard yet!”

“Let me try as well!“ the other cuts in and moves a hand to stroke your other cheek, her other hand holding her long pearl necklace against her chest to keep it from hitting you.

“You’re right. His complexion is so smooth. I’m jealous,” she sighs. “What do you say, lad? Care to take a lady to dance?” she asks and bites her rouged lip playfully.

You smile.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am. I’m on watch tonight.”

“Oh, but _surely_ you can make an exception,” the short-haired woman purrs and leans in. You feel her breasts, suggestively pressing against your arm as she tries to tug you to come along with her.

“I’m not good with crowds,” you hum. “I’m sure you can find a man more becoming of you, ma’am.”

“How about a more private setting, then?” one of them giggles. “I know where the don’s personal lounge is. We could go and play there.”

That catches your interest. You pause to give her a raised eyebrow.

“And where would this lounge be situated?” you ask, trying to not sound too engaged, just mildly curious.

“It’s in the East Wing of the second floor, the door has a small portrait of the don’s father on it,” the woman tells you. “I was once taken there by Mr Schiavone for a private drink when the don was away for business.”

Interesting. It might be worth checking out.

Especially since people are currently engaged with the party and wouldn’t notice you slipping out of the hall.

“I’m sure you’re better off asking Mr Schiavone for a dance.”

Pouting, they try to make you budge for a second longer, but soon give up and join the crowd around a minor celebrity singer trying to encourage him to give them a spontaneous performance.

When you’re sure the coast is clear, you quickly sneak out of the hall into the empty corridor. Moving away from the sounds of people and music, you pass by a few people, most on their way back from the lavatory, and make your way to the East Wing.

The mansion is huge, with most rooms closed and quiet as you pass them by. You hear giggling and moaning from one of the rooms, but hold back the curious urge to see who are the ones acting indecently behind the shut door.

It takes you a few minutes to arrive at the East Wing and locate the door the woman was talking of. As you do, you press your ear against the door but when you hear nothing, you dare to crack it open and peer inside.

It’s a rather small lounge. The walls are lined by a dark wallpaper, there is a red satin couch on the opposite side of the room. On one of the walls is a large fireplace and in front of it, a luxurious armchair. Next to it is a table with nothing on it but a recently cleaned glass ashtray.

You look at the large mahogany bookshelves, filled with publications of mostly history, philosophy and politics.

Nothing about this room catches your interest. Nothing strikes you as useful in taking down the people responsible for _Operazione Pulizia_.

That is, until your eyes land on an almanack, placed on the edge of one of the bookshelves. You pause to look at it.

You grab the small leather-covered book and open it to look at its contents.

Nothing seems important at first. Just birthdays, meetings, business trips. It’s not until your eyes land on an entry on the 16th of the month, titled “Administrative Meeting at 10 a.m.”, that you think you might be onto something.

You recall back to the 16th, and sure enough, Levi was absent most of the morning. You remember because that left Georgie in charge of the coffee shop, and he was being an insufferable prick about it.

Administrative meeting. Does this mean that all high-ranking members of the _famiglia_ are present? It’s probably where they plan family-wide operations and report results of their sections.

If you want to catch and eliminate all of your targets at once, then one of these meetings could be an ideal chance to do so.

If you don’t care about dying as a result, that is, since everyone else in this mansion will most definitely gun you down before you can get out.

You check the following month. Sure enough, another meeting is marked for the 16th. Making a mental note to keep an eye on the date and find out as much as you can about these meetings, you put the calendar back where you found it and leave the room.

A few minutes later, you slip back inside the hall that’s still just as lively as when you left, and go back to the position where you were monitoring the party.

Only, almost immediately, Georgie hurries to you, a little out of breath.

“Where the hell have you been?” he scolds. “Capo called for you. We’ve been looking for you all over.”

Shit. Levi noticed you left.

Preparing yourself for another round of his unreasonable interrogations, you merely nod and follow Georgie out of the hall.

He walks you to the North Wing and admits you into a room. Levi is sitting on a similar armchair than the one you saw in the don’s private lounge. The room generally is akin to the one you just sneaked in, only this one is smaller and lacks a fireplace.

Levi’s eyes are ominous as Georgie takes you in. The glass of whiskey is still in his hand, and his posture is relaxed and confident, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle resting on his knee.

“Leave us and lock the door,” he orders. Georgie nods and does as he’s told. There’s only a single lamp lit in the room, on the desk by the wall, and Levi looks even more intimidating in the darkness.

“Come here.”

You step closer.

“I didn’t say come and stop within five feet of me. I said come _here_,” he snaps.

You’re already getting wet. Why does he turn you on so much when he’s like this?

You walk up to him and pause when you’re right in front of him. He reaches a hand and unceremoniously grabs your throat. He yanks you close and suddenly, you’re short of breath.

“Where were you?”

“In the restroom,” you lie with a hoarse, aroused voice.

“Georgie said he checked the restrooms.”

“I hate dealing with drunkards. I went to the restroom in the East Wing.”

“Is that so?”

Levi drags you in and inhales deeply.

“At least you don’t smell like a woman,” he remarks snarkily. Confused, you pause and frown. A woman?

“Had fun with those dames earlier?” he asks, his voice conversational despite the way his hand tightens around your throat. “They seemed eager to get acquainted with you.”

Wait a moment. Did Levi call you here to make sure you don’t fool around with women? Not to accuse you of being a rat once again?

“You were surrounded by women as well,” you point out. Levi scoffs and yanks you in until you’re so close your breaths mingle.

“Don’t get saucy with me, kid. I’m your Capo. I fool around with whomever I goddamned please. But you had better keep it in your pants. You’re in no position to be whoring around. You’re my property until I say I’m done with you.”

You’re more than a little aroused as he moves his hand from your throat to your hair and grabs it roughly.

“I’ll let it slide this once, but the next time I call for you and it takes you more than two minutes to come, I’m going to throw you on the ground, tear off every single piece of clothing you have and fuck your ass, dry, until it’s bleeding.”

You shudder, the thought makes your pupils dilate with arousal and a sizeable part of you wants to be late next time just to make all of that happen. Even if it would mean the end of your charade.

“You got it?”

“Yes.” Your response is instantaneous and desperate for him. Your mind is clouded with lust, and you feel your underwear get slick with your arousal.

“Good. Now get to it.”

He shoves you down on your knees between his legs, hand fisting your hair with full authority.

You practically leap to open his pants, hands shaking with arousal. The second his cock is freed, you open your mouth and take it in your mouth.

Tongue lapping over the tip and lips wrapping around his girth with a longing whimper, you practically worship him as you move your head down, so deep you gag a little.

“Aren’t you being eager,” Levi snorts. His fist tightens in your hair. “Keep your eyes on me and take it all the way in.”

Your eyelids flutter open and you look up at him, wide-eyed and submissive as you try to relax your throat. Little by little, you inch his cock further down until your lips meet his pubic hair.

“Good.” As a reward, Levi loosens his hold, but just a little.

“Arch your back.”

You do as you’re told, putting your butt on full display, and you can’t help the surprised yelp when Levi reaches over and slaps it, quite suddenly at that. Accidentally, your front teeth graze over his shaft.

You pull back and watch him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” you breathe. Levi clicks his tongue, dissatisfied, and slaps your ass again. Then, he uses the hand to probe at your lips, two fingers slipping into your mouth to rub against your tongue.

You moan and hurry to twirl your tongue around them, eyes devoted and pleading on Levi. When he pulls his hand back, his fingers are dripping with your saliva.

“I didn’t say stop. Get back.”

Relieved (and oddly disappointed) that he’s not going to carry out his threat of beating the shit out of you if you ever bit him, you nod and move back in.

You lovingly move your tongue over the spot you accidentally raked over and then take him in all the way again. He uses one hand to keep you down on his cock, while the other reaches for your butt.

You feel something slip into the back of your pants, and suddenly, it’s not only arousal that makes your heart beat so wildly.

You feel two of his fingers, pushing down the crack of your ass until they find your hole. He rubs against it, adding just a bit of pressure, and you can’t help the moan.

All he needs to do is push down, past your ass to grope your dick, and he’ll notice there’s nothing there. The only thing keeping you disguised is his notion that going anywhere near your supposed cock would officially make him homosexual. Someone equally sexually deviant as he perceives you to be.

The thought that he’s so close to unravelling the mystery is equal parts thrilling and terrifying. Your heart is going crazy in your chest, your hands tremble a little as you reach a hand to perch on his stomach.

“Hands behind your back.”

You flinch and hurry to obey. All the while, you keep your back arched as if bewitched and allow him to rub your asshole with his fingertips for a minute, slowly loosening the muscles, before finally pushing one finger inside you.

“I’m not going to jerk you off, my fingers in your ass is all you’re going to get. So, I suggest you try to enjoy it to the fullest.”

You’re thanking your luck that you’re on your knees so that the slickness in your crotch doesn’t drip down to Levi’s fingers. The saliva from you works just enough as a lubricant as he pushes the finger into your heat.

“Keep sucking,” he orders, his hand tightening demandingly in your hair when you get distracted by the feeling of his finger occupying your hole.

You start moving again, and you can’t help but notice that Levi’s cock is straining hard under your mouth. He grunts in approval as he pushes himself to the back of your throat, his finger moving in and out a couple of times before he quite suddenly pushes in with another.

You’re still afraid and paranoid that he’s going to uncover that you don’t have a dick, but you don’t try to stop him. You do nothing to discourage him. Like the carried away fool you are, you just arch your back further and move your head more eagerly.

Levi’s fingers are not enough to get you off, but they add a lot more eroticism to the situation. You feel them push in, deeper each time, and when you look at Levi’s face, you see his eyes flicker to your ass every now and then. The darkness of the room and the position you’re in make it so that Levi wouldn’t be able to see your dick even if you had one.

Once again, you’re confronted with the fact that you love this. You love being treated like this. The way Levi doesn’t ask questions, the way he just takes whatever he wants, be it your mouth or your hole. The way he tells you you’re his property. The way he hates seeing anyone else’s hands on you.

You know this will backfire in the long run, but you don’t care. All you want is to be used by this man and please him. Let him have you, anyway he wants, whenever he wants.

“If you waste a drop, I’m going to slap you,” Levi threatens, his fingers push deep into your ass as he comes in your mouth, his other hand grabbing your hair and forcefully pressing you down onto his cock.

You cough a little, you feel the sticky substance shoot into the back of your throat. He keeps you down, only letting go once his dick stops pulsating in your mouth.

He allows you to pull back and withdraws his fingers from your ass. His seed still on your tongue and slowly, you get used to the taste and texture. You have a feeling you’re going to have to.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he orders. You obey, wide-eyed and incredibly submissive.

“Swallow.”

Almost as if on instinct, you do as you’re told. You see his length, still mostly erect in front of you. You see a few pearls of his semen on the tip.

Levi notices them as well, and he gives you one, domineering look. You read it easily and move in. Your mouth gentle and eager to please, you clean the few drops with your tongue and then tuck him back in his pants carefully.

Levi crosses his legs and leans back in the chair. He looks at you, still on your knees at his feet, and looks characteristically thoughtful. Like you’re a stray kitten he doesn’t know how to handle.

Then, he brushes his hand in your hair again. Only, this time his touch is a lot softer. Gentle, even.

“Good job.”

The praise makes you happy, and the confused, slightly awkward tone of his voice makes your heart leap again. It’s like he has no idea how to handle you. You must puzzle him, as much as he puzzles you.

You wonder if Levi would ever have even looked your way were you a woman among the rest, competing for his attention.

You lean your head into his hand for a moment and then get back on your feet. You turn for the door and give him a small, cool grin over your shoulder.

You need to pretend like you’re on top of things because if he finds out what a flustered and aroused mess you are, he’s sure to utilise it against you one way or another. To use it as an interrogation tool once he’s suspecting you of something again.

“Just call for me whenever you need me, Capo.”

You move for the door. Levi doesn’t stop you as you leave him alone in the room. Feeling his thoughtful eyes on your back, you wonder just how long you can keep up this insanity. This absolute madness of a masquerade that will end with your death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, these two just can't stop themselves can they? Also, this is the dynamic you'll largely be getting between Levi and Reader, so I hope you're into rough stuff, possessive outbursts and power dynamics that bleed into their sexual encounters. Oh, and there's a plot as well. Almost forgot. More on that in the future chapters. If I can keep myself from just writing out these chapters bordering PWP lol.
> 
> Comments are, as always, extremely anticipated and beloved and I feel sincere gratitude towards anyone who takes the time of day to let me know what they think! ^^
> 
> Love you all, toodles!


	7. The Barn of Screams

Ever since the party, Levi has kept a close eye on you in most circumstances. As if he’s sure that you’ll run off to fuck anything that moves the second he turns his back.

A few weeks have passed since then. The light autumn is changing into a heavy winter, little by little. You try your best to keep your eyes open for opportunities to find out more about the monthly meeting between higher-ups, but no such opportunity has presented itself.

And obviously, Levi is out of the question to ask from, given how suspicious he is of you.

He sometimes invites you into a room or tackles you in the hallway to drag you away. You’re at a point where sucking him off is considered a standard part of your day. Sometimes, he’ll finger your ass but you can only thank your luck he’s wary enough of your supposed dick that he never tries to touch you elsewhere on your lower body.

A couple of times he’s moved you in a way that indicates he’s preparing to fuck your ass, but those times you easily brush him off by giving him a meaningful shake of your head and upping your mouth game.

Given your warming relations, you’re not surprised when Levi picks you to go with him to restock booze. Taking a bigger car this time to bring back more at once, it’s Saturday night when you find yourself sitting next to him, looking out to the uneventfully rural horizon.

“Why is the distillery all the way in Iowa?” you ask. Driving hours to restock each time doesn’t sound like a smooth business practice.

“The Riccis will break into and try to claim were it anywhere in Wisconsin.”

“Are they that much of a threat? I thought their territory is small.”

“It is. That doesn’t mean they can’t expand. And getting a hold of our booze business would be a good way to expand. Thus, we have our distillery out of state.”

You hum and watch the frosting view. Iowa is hardly an interesting place for you. Small villages, farms, so much space, so little people. It unnerves you.

You curl up in your seat. The truck Levi got for this is big and bulky. You’re glad Levi didn’t make you drive, you’d scrape the car for sure.

Your Capo glances at you as you relax in your seat, your blinks growing slower and slower. The steady whirring of the motor lulls you to sleep.

“If you’re tired, take a nap. We still have a couple of hours to drive.”

You look at Levi, a bit surprised. You would’ve thought he’d make you stay up and keep you company. Maybe blow him while you’re at it. But no, he seems content letting you sleep.

You’re not going to say no. You give him a small smile and easily close your eyes.

As you’re drifting off to sleep, you feel his hand awkwardly yet also very gently pat your head once.

-

As Levi pulls over in front of the distillery, you sense nothing off with the large farm building. To you, it looks like any rural, half-rotten rectangle of splintering wood you’d assume to see in a place like rural Iowa. You’ve been here before. You know the drill.

You’ll walk inside to the large, open area with machinery whirring away by the sides. You’ll go to the stacks upon stacks of bottles packed away in wooden crates and pick your load. You’ll pack it in the back of the truck and begin your drive back.

The people who are making the booze are bribed (and intimidated) with mafia influence. They get paid, but quitting is not an option. Much like yourself.

You rub the last specs of sleep from your eyes as you walk towards the main door. Inside, you can hear the loud machinery. This farm was selected carefully since it’s a mile away from the nearest inhabitants. Only the booze makers live here, in a nearby cottage.

You open the door to walk in ahead of Levi and as you do, so many things happen at once.

“Kid! Down!”

Levi’s yell is too late, and a bullet whistles right past your cheek, scraping a deep cut as it does.

Immediately, you pull out your weapon and as you take cover outside by the wall, another bullet goes right by your ear.

It’s an all-out war then. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you load your gun and try to gain a hold of the situation.

You had time to take a brief look inside. There were multiple people there, hiding behind crates and machinery waiting for you.

Top hats and long coats. Mafia members.

You were sold out.

Levi soon slips on the other side of the door. He gives you a once-over.

“You okay, kid?” he asks quietly. You nod.

You hear a few warning shots drill into the wood before you, hardly thick enough to keep you from being hurt.

“Kid, get to the car and start it. We need to bail.”

As the bullets stop for a second, you quickly duck out and futilely fire five shots into the hall, breaking some of the machinery and bottles inside.

“And you?”

“I’ll keep them at bay.”

“No.“

“I’m your Capo, you don’t say no to me.”

The corner of Levi’s eye twitches as you duck back out and fire another five shots, breaking some more booze.

“Do you think we can save the distillery?”

“No. It’s overrun by them by the sounds of it. We can only thank our luck there’s no second floor or windows. Otherwise, we’d be dead by shots from above already.”

You think it over. So, the distillery is already gone.

The enemies start firing again. You think of what to do. You have an idea, but ultimately, if Levi orders you to retreat you need to obey.

“Be careful Capo. Retreat the second I’ve started the car, okay?”

“Yeah. Now go.”

You fire one more round of gunshots, breaking some more bottles and equipment inside. Just so they don’t get to profit from your distillery as much after you bail.

You move for the car.

Again, things happen so fast it’s hard for you to comprehend them.

Another bullet goes right past you, hitting the car. Then, you merely have enough time to duck before a hail of bullets comes, aimed at the wheels and motor of the car.

A few of your enemies have crawled closer to the door and are able to aim for the car.

Levi moves to the doorway and starts an impressive shooting spree. You immediately roll to the side and try to duck back to the door to get some cover, and you fire eight shots back through the windows the best you can.

Then, you hear a grunt and you don’t have to turn to see that Levi’s been hit.

Instantly, a wash of cold dread comes over you. You turn, to see that he’s slumping against the wall. He at least had enough time to get out of the way before he fell.

“Shit,” you whisper and hurry to him. You look over his wound, and it’s bad. He got hit in the thigh and the blood is really pouring out.

You take off your suspenders and use them to cut off the circulation above the cut.

“Levi. Capo, stay awake now,” you tell him. You hear gunshots against the wall and you prepare yourself for a battle.

“I need your permission,” you tell him tensely. You have an idea, but you need his permission.

“For what?” Levi asks, his voice thin and raspy with the pain.

“To be a reckless son of a bitch again.”

“No.”

“Either we both die here, or I try to take care of this. The car is bust, we’re not leaving on that. Just give me permission. Or not, I don’t care, I’ll do it no matter what,” you point out and move to leave. He grabs you and reels you in, teeth gritted an eyes fiery.

“Come back alive.”

You smile and lean in. Your mouths collide without minding the rattling of the guns around you. A brief and rapacious moment, and you’re gone.

Moving along the walls, you go around the building once to make sure there are no open doors or windows, and as quietly as possible you bar the ways out. You can hear the gunshots, aimed at where Levi’s lying. No one’s realised you’re no longer taking cover there.

When you’re sure the only way out is through the door Levi’s currently at, you join him and wait for a pause in the gunshots.

You move in when the opportunity arises, and as you glance inside, it confirms your suspicions. The alcohol is scattered all over the barn, all over the small stacks of hays still remaining, there are splatters of it all around the wide room.

From your pocket, you take out a lighter. You don’t smoke, but Georgie sometimes forgets his and gets obnoxious without his hourly smoke, so you carry one with you.

You light it.

“Kid…” Levi grunts from next to you, catching onto your plan. “Surely you don’t-”

You’re not listening. You move in the doorway, pause just enough to aim and throw the lighter into one of the pools of booze. Immediately, all-consuming fire sparks out, engulfing the alcohol and the stack of hay next to it.

While the mobsters hiding behind the stacks and machinery are busy trying to either hurry to the fire to put it out or scramble for the doors, you slam the front door shut and bar it with a broomstick.

Taking out your gun, you train it at the door, ready to shoot should any of them break through and pour out of the barn.

You hear yells from inside. Banging of fists against the door. Levi watches quietly. You can feel his sharp eyes on you, but he doesn’t speak up yet.

The sound is something indescribable. Blood-chilling screams of pain. Pleads to open the door. Begging. Cursing. Crying for mothers and God.

It takes only a few minutes for most of the sounds to die down as the smoke makes them lose consciousness.

Once all the noises are gone, you turn to check on the car. It’s beyond saving.

“The fire will go on for a few hours but I doubt it’ll spread, there’s no dry vegetation around for it to spread to,” you tell Levi and turn to him.

He’s sitting on the ground, your suspender cutting off his circulation so he doesn’t bleed out. He’s conscious, but there are large pearls of sweat rolling down his temple and his breathing is laboured.

“Let’s go. The cottage they live in must be near. Maybe their car is there as well.”

“You just set our most valuable distillery on fire,” Levi tells you, deadpan, as you loop his arm around your shoulder and help him up on his uninjured leg.

“Well, there were a bunch of mobsters inside who not only took control of the said distillery but also were trying to kill us,” you point out calmly. Levi grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you in. You’re not sure if he’s angry or not.

Then, he pulls you in for a rough kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, you taste the salt of his sweat, hear the steady crackling of the fire behind you. Smell the smoke. You kiss him back just as hard.

“If you were a normal soldato, I’d shoot you where you stand. If you were a woman, I’d marry you right now,” Levi tells you as you pull back, and you can see the playfulness in his eyes.

“I am a normal soldato.” You quirk up an eyebrow, trying to hide the leap in your chest. If he only knew that you are a woman. Would he still think the same of you?

“No normal soldato would dare to set our distillery on fire.”

You chuckle and start helping Levi down a small gravel road, leaving the fire behind. It’s been rainy and humid lately, the weather has alternated between hail and rain, and all the grass and vegetation around the barn is not very numerous and likely won’t catch fire at all. You’re not worried.

What you’re worried about is Levi’s injury.

He limps next to you, taking support from you, and you painstakingly make your way down the hill where the barn is situated, towards a small tiled cottage in the valley.

You know you should probably feel more shaken by the fact that you essentially just burnt a lot of people alive, but all you’re capable of thinking about is how glad you are that Levi’s alive.

The cottage sits in the middle of a barren, patchy field of grass. Made with stone tiles, it looks sturdy. And it won’t catch on fire even if some sparks miraculously land all the way here from the barn.

You have to shoot the lock twice to get it off, and you walk Levi inside.

The cottage is spacier than it looks inside. There are five beds by the walls, undone and messy. A small kitchen with a stovetop and a water pump is situated in a separate room.

You help Levi on one of the beds.

“Do you think there will be more mobsters coming?” you ask him. He shakes his head.

“They were most likely a small local gang trying to gain a foothold. From their numbers alone it was evident they weren’t prepared for the kind of resistance they faced. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was all of them.”

“How many do you think there were in the barn?”

“Ten, tops. They most likely killed the operators and took over the barn without knowing who it belongs to. Their initial fire was scattered and unfocused, their aim was amateurish-”

“They hit you. What does that say about you?”

“I will spank you.”

“Go ahead.”

Despite being in a lot of pain, Levi smirks a little.

“But there’s no car in sight. How did they get here?”

“I saw a couple of cars inside the barn,” Levi announces. “It’s most likely they were in the middle of packing up some booze when they heard us pull up.”

You walk to the kitchen and pump out some water into a basin. You rummage through the cupboards and finally find a relatively clean-looking rag.

Gently, you peel Levi’s pants off and kneel in front of the bed with the rag and water. You start wiping off the blood from his leg to locate the wound and assess how bad it is.

Levi hisses but doesn’t protest as you clean off some of the blood from his wound. You can see the small circular hole on his leg, just above his knee.

“It seems to have missed the main artery,“ Levi observes as he leans closer to inspect it.

If it hadn’t, chances are Levi would have bled out by now. Nonetheless, you let out a relieved breath and give him a small smile.

“I’m glad,” you murmur, and there’s a small edge of vulnerability to your voice. Telling him you wouldn’t have liked it if he died. He gives you a prolonged look and then snorts. He plops his hand on your hair and ruffles a little.

“I’m fine, kid. It’s not the first time I’ve been clipped.”

With a sigh, you turn to the wound. Artery or no artery, that bullet can’t stay in there. You go through the scattered room. Card decks on the table, dirty dishes all around the room, worn clothes thrown on the chairs and beds.

Finally, you find what you’re looking for and take out a bottle of vodka. Of course, they couldn’t resist the temptation to take some goods with them.

It doesn’t take much time to find a small knife from the kitchen. You walk to the bed and show him the tools.

“Do you want something to bite on?”

“I’ll be fine,” Levi mutters. He doesn’t look happy, but he knows as well as you do that you can’t leave that bullet etched in there. Who knows how many days it’ll take for someone from the famiglia to come to check up on you? Then, it might be too late already and Levi’s wound has gotten infected.

You pour some vodka on your hands first, disinfecting them. Then, you use it to disinfect the knife and finally pour some on his wound.

He lets out a pained grunt but stays obediently still. He’s well accustomed to pain.

You give him a glance as a warning as you kneel in front of him again. You look at the wound. It’s no longer bleeding profusely.

The tip of the knife slips inside, and Levi lets out a louder grunt. Aside from that, he takes it in stride as you move around until you feel the tip of the knife collide with something hard.

“I’m taking it out now.”

“Do it.”

There’s no hesitancy in Levi’s voice, but when you start painstakingly digging out the bullet, he lets out a yell. It has to hurt like hell. Moving as quickly as possible, you pull out the bullet with the tip of the knife and when it finally falls out of the wound and onto the floor, you nimbly pick it up and pull the knife away.

You place the knife and the bullet on the bedside table, pour a little more vodka on Levi’s wound just in case and then go back in the kitchen to search for clean rags to use as a bandage.

You come back a couple of minutes later with a clean rag. You tear it into strips and wrap them around his wound.

“You should rest. I doubt anyone will be coming here before tomorrow the earliest. No one will realise the fire, we’re too far from the nearest people,” you tell him and help him lie down on the bed.

“This bed smells like cigarettes and sweat,” Levi grumbles unhappily. You snort.

“We need to work with what we’ve got here,” you scold him. He contemplates for a second and then grabs you to yank you down.

You fall on top of him with a small flop and suddenly, you find yourself staring into his eyes of stormy grey.

“You’re weird,” he assesses bluntly. You blink.

“Weird?”

“One minute, you’re burning people alive like some lunatic from the pictures. Next, you’re nursing me like a woman.”

Little does he know, you’re both. A complete lunatic _and_ a woman. The whole package.

You hum and easily roll over to your back. This is the closest you’ve ever been during instances when you don’t have Levi’s dick down your throat. And somehow, this is more unnerving than gargling on his foreskin.

“If I was completely ordinary, you wouldn’t have looked my way twice,” you say. He moves to his side to rest his weight over his uninjured leg, pressing his face into your neck to substitute the vile smell of tobacco and sweat with that of your skin.

As if by instinct, you shift your hand into his hair and start stroking it. If you didn’t know Levi, you could almost think this is a romantic moment.

“I wonder why it is,” Levi murmurs and you can hear from his tone that he’s drifting off already. Having a gushing hole in your thigh has such an effect on most people. It drains your energy.

“What is?”

“You seem so familiar. Maybe that’s why I was so suspicious of you at first. I felt like I had seen you somewhere. Maybe spying us from a street corner while selling your newspapers, or trying to pickpocket me not knowing who I am. I couldn’t place you, but I felt like I knew you.”

“And? Why did you let me join?”

“You said you were in a pinch. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t let you join.”

“Why?”

“Because the mafia was my way out of poverty.”

You blink at Levi. You knew he was a street kid and he told you about his past briefly. He was homeless, he lost his mother and then he decided to join the mafia as a way to get off the street.

“What do you think of the mafia?” you ask curiously. He sighs, his breath tickling the sensitive skin below your jaw.

“I hate it. We’re all rotten and we deserve to rot in hell for what we’ve done. All of us. Even you, even if you had no choice but to join.”

“Perhaps so,” you accommodate. His arm loops around your waist, pulling you in closer. His face presses against your neck, and when his breath deepens, you realise he’s fallen asleep.

Maybe so. Maybe you deserve to rot in hell for all you’ve done. You wonder if something was omitted from your brain when your family died; a small part of human decency capable of remorse and compassion. You just burned a handful of people to death, yet you don’t feel guilty over it.

It’s kill or be killed. Why would you?

Yet you care for Levi. You want to protect him. So much so that the desire to do so clouded everything else. They hurt Levi. They shot him. Thus, they deserved to die the most painful death.

You look out of the window, of the dying flames, engulfing the house on top of the hill.

Rather them than Levi.

You smile at the loss of human lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware it's been a while. I was finishing up the first version of my thesis which unfortunately took up most of my time this last month. But I'm done with it for now, so that means more time for writing again. Hooray!
> 
> This time we have more feels and action than sex. Don't worry though, they'll get back to it eventually, those horny little bastards. Reader, on the other hand, is proving to be more twisted than we thought.
> 
> Comments are my bread and butter. They make my day, they elevate my mood, they motivate me to write. So, if you have any thoughts, please don't hesitate to leave a comment! ^^
> 
> Until next time!


	8. The Brandy Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: This chapter contains some misogynistic and homophobic slurs.

”Good boy. Work it all the way down your throat.”

With a delighted moan, you curl up even more by his feet, your hand perched over his stomach as you carefully work his length into your mouth.

He sinks his hand into your hair and grabs it assertively, shoving your head down with such enthusiasm that you cough a little. You give Levi a small look but focus on his cock nonetheless. Slowly, you relax your jaw and throat, and before long you’ve taken all of him in your mouth, your lips brushing against his pubic hair.

Levi woke up feeling better in terms of his injury, and seeing you curled up against his side was enough to make him horny.

You woke up to a demanding hand grabbing your shoulder and pushing you downwards, and the second you opened your eyes and realised what he wants from you, you were game.

So far, you have never been able to resist this man. Whenever he demands your servitude, you immediately get fired up and turn pliant. There’s something so erotic about being pushed around, commanded and used that makes your whole body tingle.

Thus, you moan in delight as he fists your hair painfully and stubbornly pushes you further down.

You can feel his stiff cock, pushing against the back of your head demanding access down your throat. It’s sexy, the way your jaws are forced wide open, the way your throat slowly loosens and accepts his length-

Levi’s keen ears register the approaching footsteps before yours do. You don’t even have enough time to release a surprised yelp before you’re shoved off the bed to the floor. You slam into the wood and feel an immediate, dull pain on your arm and tailbone.

Levi finishes tugging himself back in his pants just as the door to the cottage slams open. You sit up on the floor and give Levi a small look.

You conceal it masterfully, but you’re a little hurt. Levi’s not looking at you, his attention is on the door, and he’s grabbed his gun from the bedside table just to be safe.

“Capo!”

When you see Georgie, you sigh a small breath of relief. At least it’s a friendly face. They got here earlier than you anticipated, but that’s a good thing. Now, if Levi’s wound infects, he can get medical attention. It must be very unlike Levi to be late, so Georgie got worried immediately.

You get on your feet and go to Georgie. He walks in with a couple of lackeys.

“Thank God you’re fine. I saw the burned distillery and my heart gone leaped out of my chest. What happened?”

You make a point of not looking at Levi as your irritation soars. What are you, some dirty secret he’ll shove aside the second someone sees?

Well, realistically thinking, that’s exactly what you are. A toy to play with. But that doesn’t make it sting any less. The heated moment in the battle yesterday flashes in your mind, the way he told you to come back alive. The way you kissed.

The way you felt like he actually gave a shit about you.

And now, that thought is gone. Levi’s claimed you, he’s declared his ownership over you, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to treat you any better than he has up until now. And however minor his gesture, it still hurts for some reason. Maybe you shouldn’t look into it, but you don’t know how not to.

You explain everything to Georgie. How you arrived here, how someone else had taken control of the distillery, how they opened fire, how Levi was shot and finally, how you set the whole place on fire.

Georgie blinks at you. Then, he shakes his head.

“You’re crazy, kid. You should be glad Capo didn’t shoot you there and then, the booze in the distillery is worth a fortune.”

“Either they killed us and sold that booze, or I destroyed everything for them.”

Georgie snorts. Then, he notices the cut on your cheek that you got from the bullet yesterday. He grabs a handkerchief and gives it to you.

“Wash your wound, kid, before it gets infected,” he says and goes to check on Levi. You touch your cheek. You completely forgot about the wound.

You rinse the cloth Georgie gave you and start cleaning the wound. All the while, you can’t help but feel another childish pang of hurt at the fact that Levi didn’t address your wound in any way. He obviously saw it when you were busy sucking his dick, but he didn’t deem it worth pointing out.

You don’t speak up as Georgie helps Levi up and out of the cabin. Levi’s limping, but if he’s in pain because of the wound, he doesn’t show it.

You get to the car and start driving back. You throw Levi a glance where he’s sitting in the front with Georgie. You’re squeezed in the back with the lackeys.

What are you to Levi, exactly? Surely not his lover. Entertainment? His toy? His whore?

During the ride back, he doesn’t as much as glance at you. He’s too busy conversing with Georgie and telling him their plans on how to handle the booze business now that one of their most prominent distilleries has been destroyed.

You glue your eyes outside, to the rural horizons of Iowa.

It bugs you, much more than you’d care to admit. Levi’s attitude back in the cabin. You know it’s illegal for two men to get it on. You know you would be in deep trouble if Georgie saw you. You know you could never hope to be his equal lover.

And yet, it still irks you. The way he just shoved you off the bed with zero hesitation. The way he didn’t even point out the wound on your face, much less attempt to clean it.

As you arrive back at the Moretti mansion, you climb out of the car without a word and start walking to your bicycle. It’s Sunday anyway, you’re not expected to be working.

Levi notices you only when you’ve already pedalled to the gate and out of it.

-

When you come to work on Monday, you have a plan. Well, two, actually.

The first is to forget all about Levi and your confusing yearning to mean something to him. You’ll suck his cock to keep him happy, you’ll enjoy it like the raging ball of indecency you are and you’ll keep the strings securely unattached.

Second is to focus on trying to gain information about the administrative meeting instead. Thus, when you arrive at the mansion, you ignore Levi by his car and instead walk straight to Georgie.

“Hey.”

Georgie raises an eyebrow where he's standing, lazily suckling on a cigarette while leaning against the side of the mansion. You never talk to him voluntarily.

“What’s up, kid?” he asks.

“You up for a challenge? I’m short on cash.”

“What challenge?” He looks suspicious.

“Just a shooting challenge. Me, you, bullets and a bunch of cans. Nothing more dramatic.”

Georgie looks at you for a while and then shrugs. He’s a gambler by nature, you knew he wouldn’t turn you down.

“Alright. Sounds fun.”

“After work, then.”

“Right.”

You ignore Levi’s hawk eyes. When you walk by him to get to your bike, he abruptly grabs your arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. You give him a cool look and pry yourself loose.

“I’m grabbing my bike. We have a meeting at the coffee shop, right?”

Levi, obviously irked by your chilly attitude, grabs you again and pulls you in.

“What did you want with Georgie?”

“I need more money so I’m going to wipe him at a sharpshooting competition. My ma wants a new dress.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” Levi grunts. You raise an eyebrow. Why on Earth would you ask Levi for money?

“Why would you give me money?” you ask sceptically. He groans.

“Well, you perform work outside what could be considered normal duties,” he attempts. At that, you feel a hot flare of anger.

Is he calling you a whore?

You rip your arm out of his grip and turn without a word. You walk to your bike and start pedalling with the energy of someone royally pissed. Georgie and Levi both blink at you as you zoom past them, your nose stuck in the air.

Pay you for your “work”, huh? Just what does he think you are?

You’re exceptionally cranky as you pedal down the street towards the coffee shop.

The whole day, you more or less ignore Levi. You respond to his direct orders with a curt _“yes, sir”_ but otherwise, you don’t humour him at all. You feel his eyes, following you with quiet irritation and confusion. Bandaged up and limping but otherwise business as usual, he keeps giving you glances, each more irritated than the last.

He doesn’t like being ignored.

You’re quietly fuming. Maybe you should feel happy that he’s offering to give you money upon hearing you’re struggling, but he went about it in the absolute worst way.

To insinuate you’re just working for him by sucking him off. Does he truly think that? Is that the extent of his feelings? He wants to own your body and the rest he doesn’t care about?

Furthermore, you know he’s bound to have some inhibitions, considering you’re both seemingly men and what you’re doing looks to be illegal to him, but he still didn’t have to push you down so rudely. Or not care enough to even wipe the blood of your cheek as you were sucking him off. You’re aware that there was indeed a gushing wound on his thigh and that he’s now been ordered to take it easy because of it. So, your cut might not have been the first of his worries. But still. If he’s well enough to use your mouth, he’s well enough to address your injuries.

But more importantly, you pause to think, why do you want him to care? He’s a mafioso, he’s just as rotten as everyone else in this organisation. You shouldn’t be getting attached to him just because he lusts for you. It’s apparent he doesn’t have a sliver of appreciation for you.

As the day comes to a close, you accept a ride back to the mansion in Georgie’s car. You pack your bike in his trunk and then climb on board, ignoring the annoyed look Levi gives you as a result.

“What’s with you and Capo?” Georgie asks the second you’re alone. You decisively look out of the window.

“What do you mean?” you grunt.

“You’re avoiding him, and he’s annoyed by it. Did you fight? You shouldn’t be a prick to your Capo, he once-”

“He won’t do anything to me,” you tell him dryly. He wouldn’t want to lose his free head-giver. And Lord knows he’s had his chances to shoot you for far worse things yet he hasn’t.

Georgie huffs. You take a closer look at him. Out of your section, he’s easily the person you know the best, and you now wonder what his situation is like. How did he end up in the mafia?

“Do you have wife or kids, Georgie?” you suddenly ask. He snorts.

“I wouldn’t give myself to just one woman. It would be unfair on all the other women on the planet,” he solemnly announces. The corner of your eye twitches in annoyance. What an irritating guy.

“Right.”

You suppose Georgie is good-looking, but not enough to justify his pretentious attitude.

“Why? Are you interested, kid?” he laughs. “Sorry. You’re pretty for a lad but I ain’t into that homo shit.”

You smile wryly. Homo shit. Is that how Levi views your encounters as well?

“How did you end up in the mafia?”

“My pops was a made man. Only made sense I follow in his footsteps after he went and got himself killed.”

He shares his story with you easily. You suppose you can relate. You always thought you’d become a police officer like your dad. Then you wound up joining the mafia instead on your quest for senseless revenge.

Georgie pulls up at the Moretti mansion, and you hop out. You take your bike out and lean it against the side of the building before following Georgie to the luscious backyard.

The backyard of the Moretti mansion is ridiculously ornate with large, green gardens, a maze and clusters of tables and chairs. The Don’s daughter is sitting at one of the tables with her friends, gossiping about something mundane in their thick autumn coats.

Upon seeing you, she smiles.

“Georgie! Is Mr Ackerman coming in today?”

“I wouldn’t know, Miss. He was still at the coffee shop when we left.”

She pouts her full, rouged lips and adjusts the hem of her skirt before crossing her legs. She looks unhappy.

“Tell him to amuse me someday. I’m terribly bored.”

“I’ll make sure to relay the message, miss,” Georgie promises. Immediately, you feel worse. You wonder if the don’s daughter has taken a special interest in Levi. It wouldn’t be surprising by any metrics. He is a handsome man in marrying age after all.

“Is the Capo personally acquainted with the don’s daughter?” you ask, as lightly as possible, as you walk towards the maze, away from the cumbersome women.

“She wishes to marry him but the Don is not fully convinced our Capo’s good enough,” Georgie says.

Marriage, huh.

_“If you were a woman, I’d marry you right now.”_

Suddenly, the memory of his words weighs much less.

“Is Capo interested in her, then?” you ask. Georgie shrugs.

“If the Don orders him to marry her, I doubt he’ll decline.”

You try to keep the obvious jealousy off your face. You briefly wonder whether the Don’s daughter gives head as good as yours, but you quickly force yourself to shrug it.

It’s none of your business.

You stop in front of a field. Usually used to grow fresh tomatoes for the Don, it’s now empty as winter is pending. Around it is a wooden fence, and next to it is a collection of empty cans.

It’s not unusual for people to come here to shoot things.

You let him arrange the cans. You know your aim is better than his, so you might as well give him an advantage.

You shrug off the thought of Levi and the Don’s daughter. Instead, you focus on your gun.

“How much you bettin’?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?” Georgie’s eyebrows shoot up. That’s not mere pocket money. He mulls it over, but eventually, he shrugs.

“Fine, kid, but don’t get your panties in a twist when you lose.”

“I won’t.” Lose, you mean.

You load your gun and shoot down the first can with ease. Ten cans, five rounds, first to miss loses. That’s how it’s done around here.

Georgie follows suit. He hits as well.

“I need to make sure I win. Otherwise, you’ll turn even more insufferable,” you mutter as you aim and hit again. Georgie chuckles.

“Watch it, kid. When have I ever been insufferable?”

“When Capo goes to his monthly meetings with the big guns. You turn into a real prick when you’re left in charge,” you mutter. Georgie scoffs.

“Well, given how much he plays favourites with you, he’ll probably leave you in charge sooner or later. Fucking bootlickin’ little brat,” he mutters to himself.

“I doubt that’ll happen. The Capo doesn’t trust me,” you tell him with a shrug. Georgie grunts and shoots.

“For not trusting you, he sure drags you along to important missions a lot.”

“He does it because he doesn’t trust me,” you enlighten Georgie. “He wants to keep an eye on me.”

The first ten cans both of you hit. You set up another ten and gain some more distance.

“What do they even do in that meeting?” you ask, as nonchalantly as possible. Your ears are perked even though your face is stony and looks every bit the part of someone who’s asking just to pass the time as you aim and shoot down the first can.

“Who knows. They’re strictly off-limits to everyone except people ranking Capo and up.”

“Huh,” you hum dully, sounding hardly interested. “So, no one else has seen those meetings?”

“I mean, I was appointed the brandy boy once but I never saw anything,” Georgie shrugs and shoots.

“What the hell is a brandy boy?” you ask as you take down another can.

“The Don loves brandy and he always wants to drink that fancy stuff during the meetings. A soldato is always appointed to pour them brandy and light their cigars, though he’s always sent outside for the actual meeting and called back in with a bell when he’s needed. It’s boring stuff, I just stood in the hallway for three hours and went in twice to refill their drinks.”

“Huh.”

A brandy boy.

As the boy is apparently picked at random and there are hundreds of soldato to choose from, not to mention that Levi doesn’t trust you, it’s very unlikely you can wait until you get picked. But there’s something else that catches your interest about Georgie’s ramblings.

The brandy itself. Maybe, just maybe, you won’t have to engage in a shootout.

Maybe you can take the cowardly way out and poison the booze. You might have a chance to sneak out and flee before you can be connected to the murders. You shoot the next can and slowly formulate a plan, disregarding Georgie’s further chitchat with nonchalant grunts.

But, if you poison the booze, it means there’s no chance for you to save Levi. As the thought occurs to you, only then do you realise you were, at least subconsciously, holding onto the hopes that you could spare him.

Realistically, Levi would shoot you to protect the Don. There’s no question about it. You still don’t know why he spared you eleven years ago, but you do know Levi’s seemingly loyal to the mafia. He will shoot you. He has threatened to shoot you and you once again remind yourself that you’re probably just a hole for him to thrust into for the time being.

The second and third rounds go without incident and you must admit, Georgie’s doing better than you thought.

Just as you start to think your chances of losing might be pretty even, after all, he misses his nineteenth shot with a frustrated growl.

“Crap!” he snaps, visibly upset. Not that you can blame him, ten bucks is nothing to scoff at. For you, it means that you’ll finally have enough money at your reserve to buy two boat tickets to London at a moment’s notice should things go awry.

Not on any luxury cruiser, but God knows you don’t trust them after what happened eleven years ago when your uncle died on one of them, and Aunt Helen wasn’t far off losing her life either. A regular boat will do just fine.

You hold out your hand with a victorious grin. Georgie, grumbling half-hearted protests, takes out a crumpled collection of ones from his chest pocket and starts counting.

He hands you a stack, and you quickly check the amount just to give him an unimpressed look.

“Ten, Georgie. Not eight.”

“Right. Should’ve known I can’t fool the kid with good eyes,” Georgie sighs and gives you two more dollars. You roll them up and push them in your pocket.

“Thank you kindly,” you hum, but the half-smile you’re offering him suddenly freezes on your face as you feel a glob of something warm slowly trickle into your underpants.

Shit. You need to go.

“Thanks for the match. I need to go shopping for my ma,” you hum and turn to leave, hoping it’s not too abrupt. Then again, you don’t ever mingle or stay for pleasantries, anyway.

“Don’t spend all of my hard-earned money in one place, kiddo,” Georgie mutters and gives your head a friendly pat. Offering him a nod, you start walking back towards the mansion, not fast enough to draw attention to yourself but with obvious agency.

You hurry inside the Moretti mansion and go in the first bathroom you see. As you lock yourself inside and swiftly pull your pants down, you see what you expect to see; you eye the blood-stained underwear and growl a bit to yourself.

You forgot you were about to start.

Well, this explains some things. Mainly your foul mood.

You stuff some toilet paper into your panties to keep the blood at bay. You have some Kotex at your hotel, but not with you.

You’re feeling iffy, the toilet paper chafing you as you walk out of the bathroom and into the yard. It’s getting late, and the sky is deep orange with the gorgeous sunset.

When you see Levi outside, leaning against his car talking to the Don’s daughter with an air of cool nonchalance, you turn on your heels and try to go back in. There’s no way you want to get involved with that, and the small flame of jealousy that instantly roars in your chest makes you wildly uncomfortable.

Only, your attempts at fleeing are in vain.

“Kid.”

You’re not ready to face him yet. You try to speed-walk back inside, but he’s right by the mansion and only needs to limp a few hasty steps to reach you and grab the scruff of your shirt. All the while, the Don’s daughter watches with quiet puzzlement.

“I’d love to play, but I’m busy tonight, I have an operation with this kid here,” Levi tells the girl. “Have a good night, Ms Moretti.”

With that, Levi hauls you into his car and climbs in. You land on the seat with a yelp. Of course, you should’ve known Levi’s not just going to let it be. You gather your composure and stubbornly stare out of the window as Levi starts his car and starts driving, leaving behind the disappointed Ms Moretti.

“What operation?” you ask bluntly. You never heard of such a thing. Levi gives you a sideways glance but leaves your attitude unaddressed for now.

“Nothing. I’m just taking you to your motel.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve been acting up all day and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”

You huff and glue your mouth shut. Levi can probe all he wants.

“I’ve located the source of your sullen attitude to the incident at that cabin. Are you mad that we got interrupted?”

You turn to give him an incredulous look.

“Interrupted? You mean how you crudely shoved me off the bed?” you ask with a hint of snark. Levi draws up an eyebrow.

“You’re mad about that? You do know we’ll both get a bullet in our heads if anyone ever finds out, right?”

“Of course, I know that. But you didn’t have to shove me off like that.”

“You sound like a whiny maiden.”

“Isn’t that what I am?” you can’t help but ask.

Levi blinks at you as he stops at an intersection.

“What?”

“Your maiden. Hell, let’s not dance around the issue. I’m your whore, aren’t I? Just a convenient bedwarmer you can call over whenever the urge arises, knowing I’ll wag my tail and pleasure you on command.”

“I have no clue what you’re blabbering about, kid,” Levi answers, but there certain guardedness to his voice. He’s wary.

“That’s why you’re with me, right? Because I’m a man. You see me as a desperate fairy you can use and throw around behind the scenes and then emerge to humour the Don’s daughter like a proper gentleman. What a joke. And I’m just to keep my mouth shut, or open it for your prick whenever you feel like it.”

“You evidently enjoy our encounters,” Levi reminds you.

“I do. I can take you throwing me about when I’m pleasuring you,” you admit. But that doesn’t mean you appreciate him courting the Don’s daughter or shoving you around.

You sigh and lean back on your seat.

“Just say it. I can be your whore, but at least be a man and say it out loud. I’m expecting no tender hands nor weekend getaways, but I think I deserve at least to be told things as they are. You’ll marry the Don’s daughter, right?”

“Kid, what are you-”

“After you do, do you still want me to visit you in secret and suck you off? Or will you throw me away when you do?” you ask. Levi stops the car in front of the hotel and turns the engine off.

You scoff and open the door as he takes a moment too long to speak up.

“As I assumed, you will not even grace me with the truth. Good night, Capo,” you tell him and leave, equal parts disappointed and embarrassed at how emotional the issue is making you.

The street is dark and empty as you get out of the car. The sun has set already, and most people are indoors. You take two steps before you hear the car door open. Levi gets out after you and grabs your wrist with bruising power.

He reels you in despite your protests, slams you against the hood of the car and you have enough time to see him grab his hat just to hold it in front of your faces to offer you even the smallest hints of privacy from the eyes of any outsiders as he moves in and kisses you boldly.

Your back hurts a bit as you’re bent backwards and pushed tight against the hard metal surface. Levi shields you from any potential passers-by with his hat, and his other hand grabs your waist to pull you in with a demanding air.

The thought of pushing him off and launching a whole new campaign of complaints crosses your mind, but only briefly. Instead, you sink both hands into his hair and pull him in tighter. You let him push his tongue in your mouth, the sheer audacity of his move catches you completely off guard.

When he pulls back, you open your eyes. You see his dark, meaningful eyes. The street is dark and the light from the streetlamps doesn’t reach you.

“Don’t come to weird conclusions on your own, kid,” Levi tells you dully. “Who do you take me for? If I wanted a pretty damsel to give me head, I wouldn’t even need to go to a creep joint to do that. There are many fancy dames right in the mansion who would gladly do it for free.”

“Aren’t you being humble,” you point out, still a little out of breath. Levi snorts and grabs your chin.

“I know my worth, kid. And I do not _settle_ for things. I didn’t choose you because you happened to be willing and available.“

He pulls back and puts the hat back on his head. You get off the car, and suddenly your heart is trying to leap out of your chest.

“Then why did you choose me, Capo?”

“Because I wanted you,” Levi answers simply and limps back to his car. He opens the door and sits back inside.

“Go get some rest, kid. And don’t let this get to your head.”

You watch him start the car and curve off the dark street. You stare after him, and as your pulse calms down, you realise some things.

First is the obvious; you have feelings for Levi. Strong feelings. Scary feelings.

The second is that suddenly, you’re not at all convinced you’ll be able to kill him with the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a month to update. I'm sorry for that. I've been exceptionally listless lately, on top of trying to finish my Master's thesis, so I've struggled with writing because of that. I hope the next update won't take this long!
> 
> Either way, we have Levi finally confirming some feelings on his part, but that might just make things more complicated. Who can say no to a sexy kiss on the hood of his car, though?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you have the time, comments always brighten my mood when I'm feeling down, so if you want to leave one that would mean the world!
> 
> See you all~!


	9. Down With the Rest

When you get out of the motel the next day, preparing to walk to work as Levi didn’t give you enough time to grab your bike last night, to your astonishment you see a familiar car waiting for you outside. Levi’s leaning against it and when he sees you, he opens the driver side door and slips inside without a word.

You gape at him properly for a while, and you feel some heat on your cheeks as you walk over to the passenger side.

“Did you want me to climb in?”

“Yes.”

His matter-of-fact response makes your body tingle, and you sit in the passenger seat without a word. There are dark circles under your eyes as you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.

Every time you closed your eyes, the image of Levi’s meaningful eyes and firm lips flashed in your mind.

Now, you stare decisively out of the window in an attempt to keep Levi from noticing how flustered his gesture last night have made you as he starts driving towards the Moretti mansion.

You’re someone who’s capable of running into a hail of bullets, jumping off a building and infiltrating the ruling _famiglia _of the city for personal vengeance. You burned a dozen people alive in a burn and effectively destroyed the most profitable distillery of Levi’s section.

Yet, being in the same car with Levi like this makes your heart pound faster than anything you’ve ever done before.

“Have you calmed down from yesterday?” he asks and he sounds infuriatingly calm. You give him a small, sour glance.

“What were you thinking, doing that out in the open like that?” you mutter.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? You were cranky because I wouldn’t extend my affections to public spaces-”

“First off, that’s not what I was angry about. I was angry because you shoved me down on the floor. Secondly, what affections? All you do is use me as a hole,” you shoot, now getting a little irritated.

“Such vulgar language,” Levi clicks his tongue, his eyes glued to the road ahead. “If you were, in your own words, _‘a hole’_, would I care about your discontent? Or come pick you up since you don’t have your bicycle?”

You glare at him for just a second. Only part of your annoyance is directed at his actions. The vast majority is directed at yourself. You should know better than finding yourself falling for this man.

“Thank you for picking me up,” you force yourself to say through gritted teeth.

“You’re welcome.”

You sit there and try to imagine an outcome, any outcome, that involved both your feelings for Levi growing deeper and it not ending up in a complete disaster.

It’s proving to be difficult. Every scenario ends with either Levi finding out you’re a woman and shooting you for disgracing not only his division but the whole _famiglia_, or with the two of you getting caught as two men and shot for homosexual behaviour.

There’s also the fact you’re planning to kill everyone high up in the Moretti family.

Maybe you should make do with being Levi’s hole after all? Getting more personally involved would risk everything. Not only your own life but your plan as well.

If you were to fall for Levi, could you bear to kill him?

Your thoughts plague you, and when you see the mansion draw nearer, you make a split-second decision.

“Pull over,” you say.

“What?”

“Pull over, please. I need to do something.”

Levi, who’s been watching your brooding with half an eye, looks puzzled but decides to do as you say. As he drives the car into an empty alleyway and turns to face you properly, you move quickly.

You move down with ease. One hand perching over Levi’s thigh, the other reaches for his belt. Immediately, Levi hisses in surprise and grabs your head to still you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, kid?” he asks, outraged.

“Paying you back for picking me up,” you inform him easily.

Levi watches you for a moment and then sighs. He pushes you off, back into your seat.

“I don’t get you, kid. You accuse me of treating you like a common whore, yet you’re seemingly eager to treat our relationship as transactional. Which one is it?”

“Well, I’m a man. It’s not like you could seriously date or wed a man. You’ll probably marry the Don’s daughter, right?”

“I have not said anything even resembling that,“ Levi replies dully. His eyes narrow. You’re all over the place.

“Then why’s she so attached to you?” you ask.

“She is interested in me. I never said that interest reciprocated in any meaningful way,” Levi announces dully.

You groan in frustration. This is not going the way you want.

“Then how do you feel about me?” you ask, opting to be straightforward. “You treat me like a dog one moment, then suddenly you’re concerned about my feelings. Are you in love with me?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Levi snorts, but there’s a small awkward hue to his eyes, telling you he’s doubting his own words.

“Then what?”

“Are the two options thinking of you as an escort or loving you?” he asks dully. You clutch your seat in your hands.

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out,” Levi answers, and his honesty catches you by surprise. He looks a little awkward and he averts his eyes.

“I’m not sure what this is. What’s with your rush to put labels on things? You clearly enjoy being thrown around by me so why not just leave it at that for now?”

You fall quiet. Obviously, you can’t tell him you need to figure things out because you need to decide whether you’ll poison him with the rest or attempt to save him. But in the context of his circumstances, his words make sense.

“Fine,” you finally relent. “So, let me service you as thanks. If that’s how we’ll go about this.”

Levi gives you a wary look. He’s thinking you’ll interpret it wrong if he does.

Finally, he moves over to the back seat and pulls you in. You flop against him and as he kisses you, you respond immediately.

His hands, usually occupied with keeping your head down, are now slipping into your hair to guide your head sideways. He tugs at your lower lip with his front teeth and when you open your eyes you see him staring at you intently.

You feel a hand on your thigh, trailing upwards, and when it gets dangerously close to your crotch, you hurry to grasp it.

“It’s fine, Capo. Let me,” you say with a small smile, trying to keep the way your heart leaps with both excitement and dread at the thought of him grabbing the front of your pants just to find nothing there.

Instead, you gently push him against the door and crawl down his body. You can see his arousal through his pants, it’s already there and the fact makes you feel oddly proud.

You managed to rile him up so nicely.

His eyes are hooded yet thoughtful as he looks at you. Easily, you open his belt and pull his cock out, your eyes wide and playful on his.

You lap a tongue around the tip, earning you a groan. His hand shoots to your hair, but before it can, you swat it off.

“Not today,” you tell him with a small grin. “Keep your hands off and let me do this my way.”

“Kid, who do you think you’re trying to boss around?” he asks sharply, but you don’t miss the way his shaft jolts a little at your words.

You smile knowingly and rub at his cock. You lap your tongue around the tip again before taking him properly in your mouth. You see Levi’s hand move towards your hair on instinct, but he stops himself before he can touch you.

Offering him a devilish grin, you start sucking his dick. You’ve done this so many times in the past, you know exactly where to apply pressure, you know to lick just below the tip to make him groan, you know he loves it when you keep your eyes on him.

You move your lower body on your knees, perking your ass up so he can see it. His eyes flicker there for a moment as you greedily take him in your mouth, to the back of your throat until you feel your gag reflex kick in.

You splay a hand on his stomach and can’t help but notice his firm muscles underneath.

You hear the heated puffs of his breath, the way his stomach tightens under your palm and he groans just a little bit in arousal as you hold his gaze with your doe-like eyes. You pull your mouth back just to suckle on the tip, swipe your tongue underneath it and then take him back in, all the way to the back of your throat.

“Don’t overdo it, kid,” he warns you, but you can hear the strained tone. He’s close.

You give him a devilish grin and as if to taunt him, grab both of his hands to keep them down as you start moving your head vigorously.

He could rip his hands loose if he so desired, but he’s unexpectedly docile as he allows you to call the shots. You focus your full attention on his cock.

You feel a shudder go down his spine, he releases a low growl, and the warmth of his seed shoots into the back of your mouth.

Too used to the taste to make much of a deal out of it, you swallow easily and lick the tip of his cock clean before releasing his hands and tucking him back in his pants.

“We should get going,” you murmur and press a kiss on his stomach before standing up on your knees.

He gives you a long look, but eventually nods and moves back to the driver’s seat.

The rest of the way, you feel a bit more relaxed, like you have a better grasp on where you stand now. A hole, nothing more.

Yet, the kiss of last night never leaves your mouth.

-

When you cycle back to your motel that evening, you see a familiar figure waiting for you. You look over the long trench coat and sigh.

“I thought I told you not to come to see me here,” you scold Mike as you walk up to him. “What if someone saw me talking to a cop?”

“You sent me a letter asking for info. I’m here to deliver that info,” Mike insists and crosses his arms.

“You should have just sent it to me,” you groan as you walk inside. He follows you.

You can only thank your luck Levi hasn’t had his henchmen watch over the hotel the past week. Seems like you’ve won his trust enough. Or, he’s concluded he won’t find out anything that way and freed the resources for something more useful.

Either way, had Levi driven you here, you would’ve been in deep trouble and thus, the second you’re in your room with Mike, you throw your jacket and hat on the unmade bed and turn to give him a look.

“Mr Zacharias, promise this is the last time you come here like this. If you want to meet, send me a letter and I’ll come over. This is far too risky.”

“I haven’t heard from you in ages save for a very curt letter asking me to look into the operation eleven years ago. I was worried,” Mike sighs.

“You could’ve cost me my life and the operation,” you tell him with a frown.

“Alright, alright,” he raises his hands in resignation, looking a little irritated. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have come unannounced. I won’t do it again.”

You drop the issue and instead grab an apple from the table and sit down to eat it. He saunters to sit down across from you.

“So, what’s the news?” you ask him.

“Remind me why I’m helping you in the first place,” Mike mutters, but he reaches into his suitcase to take out some papers.

Suddenly, you recall Mike’s earlier proposition. He said he wanted to marry you. You’ve been so busy with your plan and Levi that you haven’t given it much thought.

You doubt it would happen, even if you got out of the administrative meeting alive. You still need to flee to London with Aunt Helen, and you doubt Mike would want to follow you.

“So, as you probably surmised, the roots of the _famiglia_ run deep. They have their hands at everything, and many knew of the operation before it took place. Even outside the mafia.”

“Who knew?”

“Local politicians, officials, businessmen,” Mike lists with a sigh. “Hell, the Don will be attending a party next weekend with all of his little supporters. Or so I heard.”

“Where?”

“Don’t even think of infiltrating there,” Mike reads your expression.

“Where?” you repeat with a hard expression.

“The Johnsons are hosting a party and rumour has it the Don will be there with his son and a couple of his closest men. But you can’t go, what if they recognise you?”

“Don’t be silly. Would they look twice at a waiter girl?” you ask. You doubt Levi or anyone else from your division will be there, and the higher-ups have only seen you briefly. They wouldn’t recognise you with a wig and dress.

Already, a plan forms in your mind. This city is rotten and the list of people responsible runs much deeper than just the mafia. Were you to somehow miraculously survive the administrative meeting, maybe you should move up from there?

Punish not only the mafia but everyone who endorses them. Be it the mayor, the businessmen profiting from monopolies granted by the mafia, politicians who agree to get bribed by them, the list is endless.

They all deserve to go.

Maybe you should merely send Aunt Helen away and dedicate the rest of your life to punishing these people until they either run out or you get killed.

“I know that look. You’re planning something,” Mike winces. “Forget it. Your chances of successfully assassinating the Don are slim to none. Your chances of doing anything further than that are non-existent. Don’t get too caught up in grandiose fantasies.”

He reaches a hand to touch yours with concerned eyes.

“Miss Ida, I said it once and I’ll say it again. You should give up on this revenge. Settle down, live as a proper woman.”

You think back to this morning, which started with a mouthful of Levi’s cock. Your chances of ever living as a proper woman are long gone.

“I can’t do that anymore, Mr Zacharias. I’m in too deep.”

With both the plot of revenge and your involvement with Levi. You can no longer marry Mike with a clear conscience.

“You are better off finding a more suited bride. I’m sure you can find someone more becoming of you,” you smile at him and pull your hand away. He looks dejected for a moment before gathering himself.

“Very well, then,” he sighs. “So be it. You wanted the intel, I have it here. Do you want me to go over it briefly?”

“If you would, Mr Zacharias. Thank you.”

He shuffles his papers until he finds the right page. You have to remember to thank him properly before the administrative meeting. He’s helping you just because he knows how much this means to you. There’s no profit to be had on his side.

“So, as I mentioned, the operation was in the making for at least four months before it got carried out. Many people knew about it, none tipped the police. You already know who the main masterminds behind the operation were, but they had people working in the background as well, both within and outside the mafia.”

“Such as?” You take a bite of your apple and cross your legs lazily.

“Antonio Bianchi, Benito Caldarelli, Levi Ackerman-”

“What?”

Your response is sharp and instantaneous, your eyes snap to Mike and suddenly, he has your whole attention.

“Hm?” Mike looks up from the papers, still half in his thoughts.

“Levi Ackerman. What did he do?”

“Why are you so interested in him in particular?” Mike asks and tilts his head.

“He’s my Capo.”

“And you’ve come to like him? Or at least respect him?” he guesses harmlessly, reading your expression.

“Something like that.”

Mike shakes his head but he no longer bothers to look scandalised.

“Well, he was tasked with breaking into the station and stealing information to prepare for the operation.”

“What kind of information?”

Already, you feel your heart halt and something cold drips down your spine. You have a feeling you won’t like whatever you’ll hear next.

“Police officers’ addresses and insurance information,” Mike shrugs as he reads over the papers. “Some witnesses saw him break out of the station and shoot at them. Police failed to catch him before he made it back to the Moretti territory.”

“Why insurance policies?”

“To get information on families. You are not on the contact records but you are in the insurance policies. Sly little thing, thinking of that. The operation was to purge everyone. Officers, wives, children. To send a message to any remaining cops in the force that no one’s safe. They needed to know who had a family to be slaughtered.”

You feel nauseated, then. You lower your gaze and swallow thickly.

Is this why he let you live? To silence his guilt when he had the blood of possibly hundreds on his hands, some of which children? Was your life a drop in an ocean of lost lives that he spared just to not feel like the complete monster he is?

Your devastation is clear on your face, because Mike leans over, looking worried. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You shouldn’t garner respect for anyone in the mafia. You know they’re all rotten, even someone who might seem nice on the outside,” he says. To him, it looks like you’re upset because you like Levi as your Capo.

But your chest hurts. You feel a tightness over your heart and it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

You shouldn’t be surprised that Levi’s capable of that. He’s just as ruthless as the rest. But to know that Levi is directly responsible for leaking your address and family history, making sure the mafia killed not only your father but your mother and your sister as well-

You flinch when you feel Mike’s hand on your shoulder. He gets up and crosses over to you with a concerned frown.

“Miss Ida? What’s going on?” he asks. You don’t know how you answer, so you just stare at him with wide, lost eyes.

“I… Need some time. Alone. I’m okay, Mr Zacharias.”

“Miss Ida, it’s still not too late. Give this up and settle down with me. I’m begging you,” Mike tries again. You give him a sad smile and grasp his hand on your shoulder just to squeeze it and move it off you.

“I cannot do that, Mr Zacharias. I’m sorry.”

Mike sighs and moves to grab his suitcase, resigned.

“Alright, then. I should know you’re stubborn as a mule. I’ll leave the list of people involved on your table. Please reconsider infiltrating the party. It will not end well.”

You will infiltrate the party. Despite knowing that, you nod and give Mike a half-hearted smile.

“I’ll think about it,” you lie. He leaves the room, and suddenly you’re alone with all these intrusive thoughts.

You get on your feet and grab the papers Mike left behind. It’s a list of names and their role in the operation, everyone Mike could dig out.

You read through the list a few times but every time, your eyes pause on Levi’s name. Each time you do, you feel more and more feelings bottle up.

You can’t tell if you’re angry or heartbroken. If you want to break down or go out right now and shoot him on sight.

But most of all, you’re mad at yourself. Why did you, even for a second, think that Levi was any different just because he saved your life? He’s a mafioso, a ruthless _Caporegime_ and he would, without a doubt, break in the police station and leak the records again were he only ordered to.

The image of his dark, meaningful eyes flashes in your mind. The way he grabbed you and kissed you like you meant something to him.

The bitter pill of betrayal is not easy to swallow, but the longer you stay in your motel room, pacing back and forth like a madman, trying to decide what to do about this, the clearer the fact becomes.

You can’t let him live.

You get a sudden flashback. That fateful Christmas Day. You can still hear the gunshots if you close your eyes. You can hear your sister’s screams. You can see the slumped bodies in puddles of warm blood. The Ave Maria, still on a loop in your mind even after all these years.

You know. Levi has to go down with the rest. He deserves to die, for what he did to you.

You make up your mind, shove aside the side of you that doesn’t want to, that’s fallen deeply in love with him, and steel your nerves.

You refuse to cry. Not for him. He doesn’t deserve it.

Eighteen days remain until the next administrative meeting. Eighteen days until they all go down, Levi included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohh boy. Levi you done fucked up now.
> 
> And I bet like 99% of you will know what'll ensue with that party Reader infiltrates. I'm not even going to pretend like it's not going there because it is lol.
> 
> Either way, things have gotten way messier now. Unfortunately, Levi is now on Reader's hit list. Poor Reader, she's torn up by this.
> 
> I hope you're all doing well despite what's going on in the world. I'm quarantined like the rest. For now, I'll try to up my writing. I haven't done much of it lately thanks to stress, but I'm slowly but steadily getting words out :) TSASOS is coming next ^^
> 
> This story is reaching its climax, I hope you're excited for the ride. Comments mean the absolute world to me, especially now that my contacts with other people are waning thanks to being isolated. So, if you have a spare moment, I'd love to hear from you!


	10. A Chase Through the Mansion

When you step out of the motel in the morning, you can almost feel the weight of the bags under your eyes. Your eyes are puffy and a little swollen by the lack of sleep, and when you see no Levi, you let out a long breath of relief.

Even though you spent the whole night trying to come to grips with things, you still have no idea how to face him. You can only hope the bike ride to the coffee shop clears your head enough.

When you realize you really can’t look Levi in the eye today, you abruptly stop your bike before you turn the corner to the coffee shop. If you see him now, you have no guarantee you can contain your feelings and not either burst out in tears or shoot him where he stands.

On impulse, you turn your bike away and instead pedal to the mansion.

You shouldn’t be this upset. You knew from the get-go that Levi’s a mobster. He’s killed countless people. He has probably done more reprehensible things than this during his long career.

But somehow, the fact that he spared you as a child made you set him apart from the rest. You thought he has some kind of morals. Or at least that he tries to have as little as possible to do with killing children.

You’re forced to confront the ugly truth that some romantic part of your brain thought Levi would turn out to be an honourable man, scoop you off your feet and carry you into the sunset.

As you arrive at the mansion, you leave your bike leaning against the wall and march off into the backyard. Luckily no one else is shooting right now, so you quickly arrange the cans in place and start blasting them off the fence.

You feel awful as you keep shooting and shooting until the cans are full of holes.

You have time to shoot a total of 21 shots before you hear someone walk up to you.

“Should’ve known you’re here.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You holster your weapon and turn to face Levi, fighting with every fibre of your being to keep the emotions off your face.

“Kid, where the fuck do you think you’ve been all day? This is not a day off,” Levi tells you. His eyes are irked and his arms are tightly crossed.

“Sorry,” you mutter and walk past him. “I’ll come to work now.”

Levi stops you. He grabs your arm and pulls you to face him. He examines your features, and instead of trying to fake being as usual, you resort to just sealing everything away and turning impassive.

Your eyes are dead as you look at Levi.

“What’s going on?” he asks and narrows his eyes.

“Nothing,” you deny and pull your arm loose. “Let’s go.”

He grabs you and reels you back in.

“Tell me what’s going on. That’s an order,” he demands, tone now sharper.

“Nothing,” you answer again.

“Stop feeding me nonsense, kid. Out with it.”

“You are not entitled to knowing about my business, Capo. No matter how much you like to pretend that you own me,” you dully say and pry your arm loose again.

Levi looks positively confused then.

“Are you still mad about me shoving you off the bed that one time?”

“No. Seriously, Capo. Just let it go. Please.”

He gives you a long, excruciatingly evaluating look before finally clicking his tongue.

“Fine. If you don’t feel good, go back to your motel and rest until you’re feeling better.”

That makes you pause. You turn to him with a confused frown.

“What?”

“If you’re not feeling well, take time off until you are. There are no operations this week, all we need is to mind the shop. I don’t need you for that.”

Somehow, having Levi be considerate of you just makes you feel worse. You were almost succeeding at categorizing him as the bad guy yet somehow, he once again manages to weasel his way closer to your heart.

You can’t deny the fact that having a few days off would help you with sorting through your feelings. Thus, you break the eye contact and hunch over a little.

“Okay.”

Levi stops you once more as you’re walking past him. He glances around to make sure you’re alone, pulls you behind one of the wider oak trees and pins you into the trunk.

You give him a bland stare, trying to ignore the way your heart leaps from your chest into your throat.

“What? You want me to blow you?” you ask dully. He rolls his eyes and brushes your hair off your eyes.

“Such crude language,” he huffs and cups your chin before kissing you.

You hate yourself when you realize you can’t push him away. Instead, you rest your hands on his chest and let him conquer your mouth.

He pulls back, and you see a small strain of saliva between your mouths. Your eyes have lidded as if on instinct, and on Levi’s face, you see a small smirk.

“You were wrong. I’m not pretending to own you, kiddo. You’re mine,” he lightly says and puts his hat back on.

“Come back to the coffee shop Monday latest,” he orders and walks off. You’re left behind, leaning against the tree. You place a hand on your chest and hear your heart hammering away.

“What am I doing?” you sigh to yourself and walk back to your bicycle.

-

The next few days go by in a haze. You don’t leave your hotel room aside from grabbing something to eat from the corner store. You try to come in terms with Levi and clarify his role in your life, but it’s hard.

As Saturday rolls about, you’re glad to have something to do that will take your mind off Levi. You spend most of the day getting ready for the party Don Moretti is attending.

You put on a long, wavy wig and a pair of heels. You go conservative with the make-up as you’re meant to pass as a servant girl.

You step out come evening and start walking to the mansion. You’d take your bike, but should Levi come over to check on you for whatever reason, he’d notice you’re gone.

Sneaking into the mansion and blending in with the rest of the servants is fearfully easy. All you need to do is to first sneak in through the back door, sneak through the kitchen and snatch a spare uniform from a cabinet.

Andrew Johnson, the host of the party, is a successful businessman and as such, he has a lot of servants. So many in fact that he doesn’t recognise all of them.

It’s time to see exactly who in this town are as rotten as the mafia.

Good thing you worked as a waitress for a little while in your recent years so you’re not completely out of your element. You did stop after a couple of months because the tips were pitiful but still, you know approximately what to do.

The hall is lively and full of people as you walk in, carrying a tray of champagne. A band of jazz musicians is playing energetic swing in the corner. The dance floor is still empty, as most people are more occupied with food and alcohol.

The latter of which is, without a doubt, courtesy of Don Massimo Moretti.

The hall is glistening a little in the light of the crystal chandeliers. The dark mahogany floor is lined with multiple silk carpets, aside from the small area in one of the corners assigned for dancing.

The food is lined up at one of the walls, sitting on long, sturdy tables. You see roasted ham, mashed potatoes, filet mignon, ratatouille, colourful salad, freshly caught fish and caviar among other things. On the next table over sits a large cake topped with whipped cream and fresh raspberries.

The food alone must’ve cost more than you could even dream of making in a year.

The guests all look wealthy and happy. The dames are wearing cocktail dresses and carrying tiny little purses. Many wear hats or hair ornaments of some sort. The men are all in suits, many smoking thick cigars.

You watch them mingle and offer everyone who saunters to you for champagne a smile and curtsey. No one pays much attention to you.

Don Moretti has not come yet.

It’s only when you have a moment to idly look at the guests that you realise something you blissfully forgot: you have no idea who these people are.

Even if you see the faces, you’re not a socialite. You don’t recognise them. Most of these people are probably businessmen who wouldn’t appear in feature articles or newspapers. They’re the silent influencers who pull the strings behind the scenes.

You look at the other waitresses and wonder if you could gossip with them without arousing suspicion. After all, they would know who everyone is since they’ve served Johnson for longer.

Then again, you would then have to pretend to be a new employee and you’re not sure you can arouse that kind of attention without also arousing suspicion.

You idly stand there for almost an hour, thinking of ways to uncover who these rich and privileged people at this party are when you see a group of suited men walk through the door to the dance hall.

You see the old man at the helm, dressed in his best. You instantly recognise him as Massimo Moretti and you feel a rush of anger shoot through you.

It’s the first time you see him in flesh. He’s a hefty man; well-fed and sturdily built. His age is obvious on his face and he looks a little out of it. Despite that, you see many people drop whatever they were doing and hurry to greet him.

“Don Moretti. How delighted I am that you made it,” a man in a white suit butters him up. Another offers him a cigar.

You watch the commotion. The don doesn’t seem too enthralled by the attention but accepts it without a word.

You glance over the others with him. You see his son, Manuel Moretti. Consigliere Marco Rossi is on their tail, along with a few other high-ranking mafia members you don’t recall seeing.

When your eyes land on Levi, you nearly drop the tray. Your eyes widen, and suddenly you feel like you’ve been dumped in cold water.

Levi’s not a party person, so you for sure thought he wouldn’t show up. Yet there he is, his eyes darting around in discontent as if hating every second he has to spend here.

The Don must have asked him to attend.

You see a man in a shiny suit walk up to Don Moretti and shake hands with him. Andrew Johnson, the host of the party.

He gestures towards the waitress holding champagne on the opposite side of the hall from you, and you let out a long, relieved sigh.

You can’t just put the tray down and leave without arousing suspicion. You need to wait until a free waitress walks by and ask her to stand in for you while you “use the bathroom”.

Then, you can slip away undetected and go back to your hotel. This plan was obviously never meant to work. You should’ve listened to Mike after all.

Until a suitable candidate walks close enough, your best bet is to stay completely still and not arouse any attention to yourself.

There’s no reason for mafioso to be looking at servants with excessive scrutiny, so as long as Levi doesn’t get too close, you should be in the clear even if his eyes glide over the crowd once or twice.

You steel your nerves, take a deep breath and resume your duties. You try not to look at Levi too much, you know he would sense it.

Instead, you play every bit the part of a regular waitress, keeping off your face the way you feel your body get pumped up with adrenaline. It’s a familiar feeling, and admittedly one you enjoy. There’s a certain thrill to knowing how close you are to being discovered.

Twenty minutes go by before you manage to grab a passing waitress and ask her to stand in for you.

She agrees, albeit reluctantly, and tells you to come back within five minutes because she has other things to attend to. You nod hastily, expertly leave out the part where you intend to leave the whole mansion and slip to the doorway.

You look around the room once more, but Levi’s nowhere to be seen.

Releasing a long, relieved sigh, you skulk to the corridor and make your way to the servants’ quarter.

The second you walk into a deserted hallway, ready to bolt, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Halt.”

Immediately, you freeze and close your eyes. You don’t need to turn to know Levi has his weapon honed in on you.

“Don’t even think about bolting-”

That’s as far as he gets before you open the nearest door and dash inside. Luckily, the small lounge you run into is empty. You lock the door after yourself and look around for a way out.

You run through the opposite door, into another, smaller hallway. You run down it and just as you find an unlocked door and yank it open, you hear Levi reach the hallway.

He turns his head just in time to see the ends of your long wig disappear in one of the rooms. He groans and runs after you, but you manage to close and lock the door in his face.

This room looks like it might belong to a servant. It’s small, with a simple bed, bedside table and desk located inside.

You quickly locate a window and run to it. As you do, you haphazardly untie and throw off your apron. The less flowing material you have to potentially get caught up in things, the better.

You thank God you’re only on the second floor.

Just as you’re climbing out of the window, Levi crashes in through the door.

His sharp, annoyed eyes dart to you where you are, sitting on the windowsill halfway out. He raises his gun.

You flash him a small, bratty smile. The adrenaline is pumping through your veins. As if Levi could ever catch you. Yet, having him chase you like this is unexpectedly fun.

“Toodles.”

You salute him by placing the side of your hand on your forehead and easily swing your legs over the windowsill. You jump off, and upon landing, you do an ukemi and roll to your feet unscathed.

You look up, just to see Levi cast himself off the second floor after you, with every intention of continuing pursuit.

He lands directly on his bent legs with a small grunt, almost as gracefully as you did. Without missing a beat, he stands up and points his gun at you.

“Slippery little thing you are,” you remarks calmly, though his eyes are shining with quiet discontent. He doesn’t appreciate you making him chase you all over the mansion.

You’re unarmed but that doesn’t mean you’re done.

“You won’t shoot me before finding out exactly who I am and what I’m up to. I know you, Capo,” you tell him cockily. “Catch me, then. If you can.”

You turn and bolt. You hear Levi release a low growl and sprint after you.

You would’ve gotten away were it not for the fact that you’re used to running in men’s shoes. Not in high heels.

You make it to the dimming backyard where the guests have parked their vehicles before Levi grabs your arm and kicks you down into the ground.

You groan and roll over to your back. You look at him above you. He has one of his boots on your shoulder, keeping you down. His gun is still out but you only now notice he hasn’t removed the safety.

You were right. He wasn’t planning on shooting.

The sun is setting and you hardly have a dozen minutes of sunlight left. He looks over you, your wigged head, the knee-length waitress’ dress you’re wearing, the heels on your feet, the small dab of blush and lipstick on your face.

“You’re obviously not used to running in heels,” he points out with a raised eyebrow.

“When did you notice me?”

“The moment I walked in,” he tells you. “I was going to pretend not to notice and confront you on Monday but the way you haphazardly left told me you were about to flee. Maybe for good.”

To your astonishment, he puts his gun away. He must have figured you’re unarmed.

“Can I stand up now? This gravel is hardly comfortable,” you mutter at him.

He removes his boot and stands back.

“Be my guest.”

As soon as you’re on your feet, you make a futile attempt at the gun but he swats your hand away and quickly kicks you back.

“Is this a way to handle a lady?” you try. He snorts.

“Says the runt with a body count. No matter what you have between your legs, you’re no lady.”

Well, it was worth a shot. You know better than making a run for it again. Levi can outrun you while you’re still wearing heels.

“So, this is what it was after all,” Levi hums.

“_’After all’_?”

“I had a few theories about what your deal could be. One was that you’re a woman, another that you’re a eunuch and the third that you were sent in to slither into my close circle but are not into dudes at all, thus why you’d never let me get further than blowjobs.”

“Which one were you most set on?”

“Three. No woman I’ve ever known would have the nerve to bluff their way to becoming a mobster.”

“You seem relieved,” you tease him just a little bit. He huffs, a little amused.

“You may look good in a skirt, kid, but you won’t be able to coo and flirt your way out of this pinch. Talk.”

You sigh and adjust the hem of your dress a little.

“Fine. I’m a lass. I’ve always been good at shooting, more so than being a proper lady. I made a small living in Alabama by doing sharpshooting competitions. My father passed away when I was fifteen and my ma moved us here thinking it would be easier for a woman to find a job in the city. However, she became overcome with dementia.”

Levi says nothing as you come up with a story on the go.

“She’d go out, gamble large sums of money and then have no recollection of it later. Eventually, we amassed massive debt. I tried my hardest to work as a waitress and newsboy to cover for the expenses, but it was to no avail. I then heard how rich people can get in the mafia and how the Moretti famiglia needs more hands after the recent sting.”

“So, you claim you joined because you needed the money. Then why are you here today?”

“Side hustle,” you explain. “I thought you wouldn’t be here, so I decided to risk it. I heard through the grapevine Johnson needed extra hands for this party.”

“You don’t have enough?”

“I’ve paid off a big chunk of the debt, but I need to keep my ma fed and pay the old spinster woman to look after her. I decided to stay at the motel to keep my ma away from mafia business.”

Levi stays quiet, weighing your story. Then, finally, he sighs.

“And you’re reckless enough to sign up in the mafia just to keep your ma fed? Do you have any idea what would happen to someone revealed as a woman?”

“I’m going to make an educated guess they’d kill her,” you roll your eyes. “I knew the risks well before I first set foot inside that coffee shop. I bought a life insurance before joining, I knew I might be discovered and killed.”

Levi grits his teeth, thinking it over for a moment. He then makes up his mind, pulls out his gun again, points it to your head and pulls the hammer back.

“Leave. Get your ma and move states. No one will recognise you as a lass so you can get away with it. I’ll tell the rest you went and got yourself killed.”

“No. I need the money,” you argue. Levi steps closer, looming over you.

“Leave.”

“No.”

You step up to face him, no fear in your eyes. If Levi was going to shoot you after hearing your story, he would’ve done so already instead of bargaining with you.

He growls. A dangerous growl that makes your skin prickle. The last of the sun disappears behind the horizon, leaving you in near darkness.

You feel the barrel of his gun press against your temple and you swallow.

“Shoot me if you must, but I’m not leaving,” you tell him, eyes intent on his. You can’t give up now. The administrative meeting is so close.

Your revenge may have blinded you, but like a whirlwind, you’ve been scooped off your feet and your will is no longer your own. The ghosts of your family are haunting you, have been for over ten years, and this is the only way you know to be able to sleep well at night again. To feel like a person again.

Levi leeches the emotion from your eyes and when he sees the pain, his eyes turn a little thoughtful.

“What’s your name, kid? The real one.”

“Jessie,” you lie quickly. “Jessie Williams.”

“You’re not seventeen, are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Levi looks a little relieved at that. At least you’re an adult.

“Alright then. Jessie.” The name sounds wrong, coming from Levi’s mouth. Oh, how you wish he could call you Ida instead. “If you don’t agree to leave, I’m forced to shoot you. Letting a woman operate amongst our ranks would be too risky and disgrace the whole famiglia.”

“Then shoot,” you say softly. “I’m not afraid to die, Levi, my only regret would be that it’d be you shooting me.” After sparing you so many times.

He moves closer, so close you feel his breath on your face. He’s riled up.

“Last warning. I _will_ shoot you.”

“Do it,” you dare him with a low hiss.

Levi grits his teeth and with a swift move, he’s sheathed his gun, grabbed your neck and reeled you in for a kiss.

A small, startled whimper is all that leaves your mouth before you toss your arms around his neck and pull him tight against you.

The cat is out of the bag, so you have no reason to hold back. If you’re to die soon, you at least want to go knowing what it feels like to be embraced by a man who makes you feel as strongly as Levi does.

Levi wraps a possessive arm around your waist, his other hand fishing out his car keys. He locates his car and opens the backseat. Shoving you down on it, he follows suit, slamming the door shut after himself as he does. The dimness of the evening assures no one can see you even if someone were to come out to the backyard all of a sudden.

He pauses to look at you, your knee-length waitress uniform, the heels, the wig. His eyes are dark and riled up.

You expect him to go straight for your uniform and get you naked. Instead, he grabs your long wig and tosses it off to the front seat.

“You look better with short hair,” he replies your questioning look.

At that, you dare smile a little. Your pulse is thundering in your ears because you know nothing is stopping you now. You’ll take your decency and cast it off.

Mike Zacharias’ face flashes in your mind, but only for a fleeting moment. Your eyes are on Levi, and you do nothing but arch your back and spread your eager legs when you feel a demanding hand, trailing up your inner thigh under the hem of your dress.

Levi’s eyes are hard. He stands on his knees before you, eyes taking in every hue of your eyes as his hand fondles your thigh. You want him, and the chase and gun to your head only made you all the more eager.

“Capo,” you breathe, your chest heaving. He’s so close to discovering how wet you already are. You can feel your undergarment splotching with your juices.

Levi smirks and pulls his hand away. He leans over you, his hand grasps your throat and suddenly he’s so close your breaths mingle.

“This changes nothing. You’re still mine,” he tells you with a ruthless, possessive edge to his voice.

“Yes,” you breathe before you can stop yourself. “Don’t you dare go easy on me just because you’ve discovered my secret.”

At that, Levi groans and crashes your mouths together. His tongue plunges deep into your mouth, stealing the air from your lungs, and his hands grab the front of your dress just to rip it open.

You hear buttons landing somewhere on the floor but you don’t care. All you do is moan in delight, open your mouth for his tongue and hold onto his shoulders for support.

You feel a thrill as Levi’s impatient hands pull the straps of your brassier down. He peels the thin fabric off your chest and grabs your breasts.

He kneads them once before allowing his fingertips to tease your nipples. You gasp against his mouth. It’s all so new to you. Before now, you’ve always focused solely on Levi and his pleasure, all he’s done to you is finger your ass once.

Now, however, he seems fixated on your body. His fingers tease your nipples until they’re hard. Then, he breaks the kiss, gives you one glance and surges down to take one in his mouth.

Your breath hitches, your hand instinctively dives into his hair and when you feel his tongue roll over the sensitive peak, you almost sob.

“Capo,” you breathe, just a little alarmed because you’ve never felt such intimate pleasure. A small part of it unnerves you.

“It’s okay, kid. You belong to me, so let me claim what’s mine,” he responds, his voice infuriatingly steady.

He pulls back, his humid breath hits the skin on your breast, and you feel goosebumps all over your body.

He looks up, at your riled up face, and you feel your face flush even more.

He grabs your hand and places it over the bulge in his pants.

“Touch me,” he commands, and you obey immediately. You feel the familiar length of his cock, already fully erect in his pants. So many times you’ve touched and pleasured him yet now, you feel more nervous than ever before.

Levi rakes his teeth up until he finds the pulse point on your throat. He bites into it, suckling a mark as he does, and his hand unceremoniously shoves the hem of your dress up and places over your aching crotch.

“You’re wet, I can already feel it,” he murmurs against your throat.

“Such crude language,” you whisper, your voice just a little shaky.

“You love it. You just got even wetter,” Levi observes. He withdraws his hands and helps you sit up a little.

You pull your hand away from his cock and shove his suit jacket off his shoulders. Then, you start unbuttoning his vest. He allows you to bare his upper body and disarm him from the weapons at his sides, though he makes sure they’re close enough for him to grasp should he need them.

You admire his toned chest, your hands sliding on the marble-like skin. On a whim, you move down and place your lips on his chest, worshipping his body with your mouth.

You feel Levi’s hand slip into your hair and take a firm grip. The familiarity of his touch makes you relax. The more you spend time with Levi, the more you’re realising you love being treated firmly.

A reckless wild card in the field yet you willingly give Levi complete control over your body when you’re alone like this.

Your mouth is hungry and humid as you cover every inch of his exposed skin, your hands slipping around him to rake your nails down along the bumps of his spine.

You hear him groan. He grabs the waist of your underpants. Obediently, you raise your hips and allow them off.

Your heartbeat is so loud and fast you feel a little dizzy. He uses his hand in your hair to yank your head back, completely exposing your marked throat.

His eyes are drilling into yours, stormy and authoritative. You know this look by heart. How many times have you seen it before?

“Spread your legs.”

You swallow, breathless, and obey. Levi shoves you back down on the seat and looks just a bit amused when you let out a surprised yet undeniably aroused moan in response to the rough treatment.

He grabs your thighs, pushes them up to your chest and leans down to look at your pussy.

Immediately, you feel a little insecure. You’re not used to being so exposed to anyone’s eyes, and you start worrying. Is it clean enough? Does it look normal? Is the wetness off-putting?

You need not worry. Levi lets your legs go.

“Keep them there,” he orders, and despite your nerves, you nod and reach your hands to hold your legs out of the way.

You don’t know what to expect, but when you feel a couple of thin fingers, gently moving up and down your slit with the lightest of touches, you can’t help the longing whimper.

Levi uses his finger to gather some of your wetness and each time he brushes over the sensitive nub of your clit, your breath hitches a little.

After a few teasing touches, Levi settles for rubbing your clit with two fingers. The sensation is equal parts wonderful and unsettling. You’ve never felt anything like this. Like any woman of your era, masturbation is almost unheard of and strongly condemned. Thus, it’s the first time you’ve been stimulated like this.

Levi moves his head back up to your breasts, taking one in his mouth. His tongue darts out to tease it, and you release a strangled moan.

He starts moving with purpose, then. His fingers circle your clit with a steady rhythm, he moves back and forth between your tits, tonguing and nibbling your nipples in turns. You feel a rush of sensations; your body slowly starts shaking, you twitch and jolt every time he touches you at a certain angle, your moans get more and more breathy.

“Capo,” you whisper with your unsteady voice, but his only response is to grab your throat and bite on your nipple, hard enough to coax out a whimper.

Your body tenses up as Levi’s skilled fingers nimbly disarm your coherency. An odd wave of tranquil takes over you, your eyes turn glossy and it’s hard to remember anything. You’re approaching something but you don’t know what and were it not for Levi’s calm and authoritative hands, holding you down and taking your body, you would maybe freak out.

Now, however, you merely close your eyes and let it go. A spark runs down your spine, you see flashes behind your eyelids and your whole body tenses as he touches your clit once more. You feel your muscles contract a few times and then release.

You let go of your legs to instinctively search for Levi as you thrash on the seat a little, trembling like a leaf as you ride out your orgasm. Levi answers your voiceless call and moves up to kiss you, a little gentler than usual.

He lets you come down before breaking the kiss.

His eyes are still dark and full of want, and when you feel his clothed erection press against your now sensitive crotch, your eyes flutter a little.

You see the question in the way he looks at you. Will you let him fuck you?

Without missing a beat, you pull him back in for a kiss, your hands greedily opening his pants to release his cock.

Levi helps you with taking his pants off. He observes you, and as you wrap your legs around his waist to help him ease into you, he suddenly grabs your neck, his thumb moving over your throat.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice dark and heavy. “If you let me claim you, I’ll never let you go. Let someone else touch you, I’ll kill them. Betray me, and I’ll kill you.”

Your eyes are lidded and aroused. You’re distantly aware of the fact that you’re going to kill Levi in just two weeks and no matter what you answer here, the fact won’t change.

In two weeks, either you kill him, or he kills you. Despite that, the thought of vowing yourself to him, for all eternity, makes a thrill run through you.

Maybe you should be intimidated. He’s crazy.

But then again, so are you.

“Claim me, Capo. I’m yours,” you answer.

He swipes his thumb over your lips and then claims them, so eagerly it’s hard to breathe.

He lines up and pushes in, in one go.

It’s far from the worst pain you’ve ever felt but you still squeeze your eyes shut and wince against his lips as you feel your walls stretch around him, struggling to accommodate his girth.

He has the decency to wait a moment, languidly kissing you as you slowly relax and adjust to his cock.

The pain subsides eventually, and you relax your muscles, little by little.

Levi waits a moment longer and then rolls his hips back just to push back in, knocking your breath out as he does.

“Shit,” you breathe and lick your lips.

“Is that a way for a lady to speak?” Levi asks with a raised eyebrow. You glare at him.

“You said it yourself, I’m no lady. If you expect me to start acting like a proper, posh dame from now on just because you know my secret, you’re sorely mistaken. I’ll still be a reckless, foul-mouthed son of a bitch.”

“Good.”

Your lips collide again, he grasps your hips and starts pushing into your heat with slow and steady thrusts. You’re so wet he glides in and out with no problems, and each time he reaches just a bit deeper.

It doesn’t feel good right away, but the pleasure builds up a bit each time he rams into your body. You bite his lower lip, scratch his back and squeeze him between your legs as hard as you can.

“Keep going,” you breathe. Levi pushes in all the way and then starts moving with fast, small movements.

It works like magic. Immediately, you break the kiss just to toss your head back. Still sensitive from your earlier orgasm, you act entirely on instinct as you move your hand down.

Levi stands up on his knees and watches, fascinated, as you easily push the hem of your ripped dress out of the way and find your clit. He keeps nudging his hips with small, precise thrusts and the moment you touch your clit, your breath hitches.

It feels good. Your thoughts turn into mush and you open your eyes to look at Levi’s stormy expression.

He’s perfect. He belongs above you, inside you, all over you.

“Levi,” you whisper, and hearing his name from your lips makes him groan, grab your hips hard enough to bruise and start a full-on assault.

Still making sure he rubs against your walls at that delicious angle that makes you feel so good, he fucks you into the seat, looking with open arousal and fascination as you shamelessly spread your legs and pull them up to your chest, your hand moving over your clit in frantic circles.

Your lewdness is a lot, even for him. The women he usually beds are quiet and shy, occupied with looking their best. You, however, are such a delicious combination of unapologetic wantonness and dedicated submission that he finds himself mesmerized by the sight.

You’re so close and this time, you don’t hesitate. You want that overzealous pleasure, you chase it like a madman and when you finally find the edge of the cliff and cast yourself off it, your body writhes.

Levi grits his teeth as you suddenly become overbearingly tight around him. Your muscles cling onto his cock and the friction is driving him mad.

The moment you come down from your high and loosen around him a bit, he resumes moving. Leaning down, he places his forearms on each side of your head, caging you in place as his hips snap down into the blinding heat.

You watch him above you with devoted, lidded eyes, your body rolling to meet his demanding thrusts.

“I’m yours,” you breathe, and your words make him go even harder. He grabs your neck, takes your mouth and you feel his body tense against you.

He has the coherency to pull out at the last second, but just barely.

You feel something warm splatter on your thighs.

Both of you pause to catch your breath. Then, Levi pulls back from you and starts looking for his clothes, suddenly acutely aware of where you are. You slip your brassiere back on. Levi fastens his guns back on, finishes getting dressed and takes out a handkerchief to clean his seed from your thighs.

He hands you your panties, and you pull them back on.

The dress is ruined, there’s no way around that. Levi seems to have realised that as well because he takes his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders.

“Use this to cover up.”

He gets out of the car just to circle over to the driver’s seat. You manoeuvre yourself to the passenger seat, feeling just a little puzzled.

You can’t read Levi’s expression. Is he going to allow you to continue in the mafia after all?

“I’ll take you back. Stop taking on side hustles. If someone recognises you, it’s over.” Levi’s eyes are glued ahead as he starts the car and begins driving.

You nod wordlessly.

“If you need more money, ask me.”

You glance at Levi warily.

“Alright.”

“If you get caught as a woman to the rest, you’re on your own. I won’t be protecting you.”

“I know.”

“It’s still not too late to run for it.”

“I won’t.”

Levi sighs.

“Listen, kid-”

“You can keep pestering me about it, but the answer will always be no. I need the money and no job pays better than this. Or would you rather I start humouring men?” you ask dryly.

“Don’t be stupid. I’d send you money.”

“You’re offering to provide for me even if I switch states and we’ll never see each other again?” you ask, now a bit baffled and even more sceptical.

“Who says we’ll never see each other again? I can visit.”

“Levi, unless you plan on marrying me, stop babying me,” you huff.

“Alright.”

“…What?” You turn to give him a flabbergasted look.

“I’ll marry you.”

“Have you lost your damn mind?!” you hiss, scandalised.

“I told you. You let me claim you, I’ll never let you go. You’re my woman, so it’s only natural I’ll marry you.”

Levi talks calmly as he drives.

“Why are you suddenly so eager to commit to me? You had no interest in that whatsoever when you thought I was a lad,” you point out, ignoring the way you feel your face flush. Somehow, this is even more embarrassing than what you just did.

“It’s not like I could’ve married you if you were a dude.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, you treated me like shit.”

“Only because it turned you on so much,” Levi shoots back.

“You just wanted to get off,” you huff.

“Yet I didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he argues back. “I didn’t know you wanted moonlight serenades and flowers. I’m a man and I don’t need that shit so I assumed you’re the same.”

“No, your approach has changed. You never loved Isaac yet you’re so eager to get on Jessie’s good side.”

“Who says I never loved Isaac?”

“Are you being serious right now? You obviously didn’t love me as Isaac,” you sigh.

“If you’re asking whether the fact that I thought you have a dick made me hesitant, then yes. It’s illegal and the mafia has no tolerance for that kind of perversions. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t choose you because I felt something for you.”

You’re not completely convinced but you let it go. It’ll all be over in two weeks, so whether Levi’s telling the truth doesn’t matter.

Levi pulls up in front of your motel.

“Kid, I’m asking you one last time. Leave Wisconsin, marry me and let me provide for you,” he tries. Unbeknownst to him, he’s not the first one to offer you this exact thing.

And just as with Mike Zacharias, your reply doesn’t change.

“I’ll see you at work on Monday, Capo,” you tell him. You pull his jacket tighter over your chest and leave the car.

Levi lets you go, and you feel his eyes on you until you disappear inside the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know, it's almost been two months and I'm sorry I took so long! If you follow my other fics you know I had to take April off from writing because I needed to finish my degree. Then, May has been a combination of resting, chilling and writing. I updated my other fics before 77G since I struggled a lot with this one, but I now finally managed to finish the update.
> 
> Well, to be honest, this is two updates baked in one. I was going to initially have Reader's blues last longer and dedicate a whole chapter to it, then another for the party, but since so many people expressed how excited they are to get to the party, I decided to merge the two into this 7,000 word monster ^^;
> 
> That being said, the cat is out of the bag and this chapter had it all. A little angst, a little feels, a thrilling chase scene and a smut scene (finally). I'm always eager to hear from my readers, especially now that the world is as it is and it's been a hot minute since I last updated this fic. So, be sure to leave a comment telling me what you think! ^^
> 
> Btw, writing a genderbending fic made me think about possibly writing a M/M Levi/Reader fic as well. I recently started a [Twitter poll](https://twitter.com/RogueRika/status/1264315836828975106) asking how my readers feel about the idea, make sure to vote if you feel like it ^^ And also, follow me on Twitter! Perks include knowing where I am updating-wise since I tweet about fic-writing often, polls/tweets where I ask for opinions on possible future projects and/or what to update next, early access to any and all fanart I may commission (I'm currently waiting for a delicious 77G fanart which I'll probably post on Twitter as soon as I get it and then here with the next update). I also offer chances to get characters named after you sometimes, so feel free to drop by if you're interested!
> 
> Love you all, until next time!


	11. Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warning:** Contains rough/kinky smut with strong D/s dynamics, bondage, asphyxiation and inner monologue with misogynistic slurs. I suspect the people who still read this are into that shit but letting you know just in case. Look away children  
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

As you step out of your motel the next Monday, you’re not too surprised to see Levi waiting for you. Immediately, your heart leaps with joy.

You wonder if he notices. The way you spent just an extra moment in front of the mirror this morning, arranging your hair.

You give him a coy glance and act like you don’t notice him. You walk right past him toward your bike.

“Hey.”

You ignore him, pretending like you can’t see him. Having him chase you has its charms.

He doesn’t appreciate it. He walks to you and, rather boldly at that, grabs your waist and turns you to see him.

“Is this the game you’re playing today?” he asks. You push at him a little, though the smile on your face gives you away.

“Whatever do you mean, Capo? I assumed you were here for business since there’s no way you would come all the way over here just to pick up a soldato.”

“You’re right. I didn’t come to pick up a soldato. I came to pick up my woman.”

“Stop calling me that, especially in public,” you scold him, but the blunt confidence he grabs you with makes you a little excited.

“Ditch the bicycle. Let me drive you to work today,” he says. You cock up an eyebrow.

“Let go of me before someone sees and thinks you’re doing indecent things to another male,” you say. He knows you’re right, but there’s an air of reluctance when he lets you go.

“Let’s go.”

You sigh, resigned, and grab your bike.

“I at least want to bring it to the mansion with me,” you say. He clicks his tongue at the bargain but shrugs nonetheless.

“Whatever you want.”

Satiated, you move for the bike but he grabs it for you and carries it to the car. You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow.

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Treating me like a lady. I can carry my own bicycle.”

He says nothing. As you move for the car, he tries to cut in front of you to open the passenger side door for you, but before he can you grab his arm and shove him back.

“Levi, I swear to God. Keep extending unwanted chivalry my way and I’ll punch you in the mug.”

“I’m your Capo. Do that and I’ll have you kicked out.”

You climb in the car and slam the door shut. Levi walks to his side and hops in. You glare at him and as soon as you’re alone, you start complaining.

“I told you. I don’t want you to treat me any different just because I’m a lass. You were not nice to Isaac, don’t be nice to Jessie. It’s very unsettling because you’re not nice to anyone.”

He starts the car, turns to you and grabs the front of your shirt. He roughly reels you in until you can feel his breath on your face.

“Complain, complain,” he hums, and his low voice immediately sends a shiver down your spine. “Won’t you even kiss your man good morning?”

The side of you always eager to please this man makes you place a gentle hand on his chest. Automatically, your eyelids flutter and you lean in.

“If you want a kiss, just take it,” you whisper. With a cocky smirk, he grasps your neck and takes your lips. You moan in delight, lips obediently opening for his probing tongue.

When he pulls back, your complaints are far forgotten. He starts driving to the mansion.

“Anything special for today?”

“...Yes.”

Immediately, you perk up, feeling the familiar tug of excitement. Even as the countdown to the administrative meeting nears its end, you still crave a good challenge. Some action.

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you at the mansion when we meet with the rest.”

You give him a curious look which he expertly dodges. As you arrive at the mansion, you see most of Levi’s division is already waiting in the yard. Fourteen men. Only you, Georgie and a couple of others serve close to Levi. The rest run his operations around the city, be it booze trade, extorting businesses or something else.

“Capo. Isaac.” Georgie nods to both of you, only a little confused when you emerge from the car as well. “Why are we meeting up here and not the coffee shop?”

“Leo and Tony will watch the shop for today. Don ordered us on a mission.”

Immediately, you jolt with a sparkle to your eyes. It doesn’t go unnoticed. Georgie laughs and walks to you to slap your shoulder.

“Hold your horses, kid. Isaac’s just aching for a good shoot-out as usual,” he says, amused. He leaves his friendly hand on your shoulder despite the unimpressed look you give him.

Georgie. Ever since Rob died, he’s clearly been aching to have a new buddy within Levi’s close circle of soldatos. And he apparently picked you because aside from him, you’re the only one Levi always keeps close. The rest may vary a little depending on what he needs to do that day. You and Georgie, however, attend him every day.

“We’re going in to the Ricci territory,” Levi tells you. Immediately, everyone falls dead silent. The relaxed excitement turns to nervous tension.

“...The Ricci famiglia, Capo?” Georgie asks, blinking. “Why?”

“Don thinks he’s tracked down the Capo responsible for Rob’s disappearance. He’ll be near the edge of the territory today, attending to some business. We move in, take him out and move out before reinforcements have time to arrive.”

You obviously keep your mouth shut about how the Riccis had nothing to do with Rob’s disappearance and how his body is drifting somewhere in the sea, trapped inside the car you pushed him overboard in.

“He’ll be at a saloon near the territory border come midday. Until then, get ready. Kiss your women goodbye, have something to eat, check your weapons. That’s all.”

Levi walks to you and unceremoniously, he yanks you away from Georgie and starts dragging you to the mansion.

“You, come with me. You owe me a dollar from our shooting match on Friday.”

An obvious lie but you say nothing as he drags you by the scruff of your shirt like you’re a disobedient child. Georgie only gives you two a small, raised eyebrow. He’s long since gotten used to you and Levi having a relationship he has no idea how to read.

“You can let go now, Capo. Georgie is no longer here,” you say as you walk along the maze-like corridors. He doesn’t reply but lets go of you, trusting you’ll follow him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Quiet.”

You roll your eyes a bit but do as you’re told. As you arrive in the North Wing and are walked into the furthest corridor, you have a faint clue where you’re headed.

Your suspicions turn out to be right as Levi unlocks a room and lets you in. Inside is a large suite. A king-sized bed by one wall, a desk by another and a large bookcase by the third.

One wall is covered by a large fireplace and above it hangs an expensive-looking painting. The door to your right you surmise must lead to a small private bathroom.

Levi’s room.

“Wow, Capo. You brought me to your room. It’s almost as if you’re no longer looking for an excuse to kill me and have started to trust me,” you quip harmlessly as you look around.

Levi closes and locks the door. He gives you an unimpressed look and easily grabs your waist.

“Shut up, shitty kid.”

You grin and rest your hands on his chest. The closeness immediately affects you.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I told my men to kiss their women goodbye. I figured that also applies to me.”

“But I’m coming with you,” you point out.

“Are you sure you want to? It could get dirty real quick.” It’s obvious Levi’s voicing an authentic hang-up he has, but you’re not about to give it any leeway.

“Yes. I can handle myself. How many times have I saved your ass, Capo?”

“Too many.”

“Do you feel threatened by my impressive shooting skills and ability to think on the go?”

He quirks up a quizzical eyebrow and easily grabs you. Hoisting you up, he drapes your legs around his waist.

“Threatened? No. Impressed? Consistently so.”

His praise makes you smile and you easily loop your arms around his neck.

“We have a few hours,” you say, a sultry edge to your voice. “Why don’t you- Mmh.”

His lips interrupt you. Quick and powerful, he swoops in, stealing your breath. You moan in delight, clinging to him as his greedy hands pull your thighs tighter around him. His tongue laps into your mouth, demanding your attention.

All you can do is hold onto him and be pliant. Let him do as he likes.

You feel a rush of erotic adrenaline as he quite suddenly throws you on the bed. You land on the soft cushions and give him a smile.

Shamelessly, you arch your back just a bit, hands sliding over your stomach, letting them trail underneath just slightly. Levi watches, contemplating his options. You can see he likes the sight.

Then, finally, he takes the armchair sitting in front of the fireplace and carries it next to the bed.

He sits down and crosses his legs.

“Go ahead. Be my guest.”

Immediately, you feel your face flush. As much as you like to pretend otherwise, you’re very new to these situations.

But, being more open-minded than the standard woman of your era, you soon collect your nerves and give Levi a smile. Not as confident as you’d like, but convinced you can do this.

You release a long breath and let your hand trail under your shirt. You already forgot you’re wearing the bandages. They’re pressing your breasts down against your ribcage, and you can’t really grope yourself like this.

Levi watches, intrigued, as you sit up and throw your shirt off. You then start unwrapping the cloth from your chest, slowly releasing your breasts.

As you feel the pressure ease and your tits finally pop out, you resist the urge to cover them from Levi’s eyes.

Instead, you steel your face and look him dead in the eye, hands slowly moving to cup your breasts as you do.

It’s an odd sensation. You were always strongly advised against touching yourself. It’s sin. Then again, getting involved with the mafia and sleeping with a man unmarried is even more so. There’s nothing left to lose.

You pinch your nipples and stifle a small moan. You close your eyes and imagine it’s Levi’ Is impatient tongue, swirling around the tip-

“Faster.”

You crack an eye open to see Levi, watching with that domineering look in his eyes. As if enchanted, your hands do as he says. Wouldn’t dream of backing down now.

You move your fingers faster, roll them over your nipples and the touch combined with Levi’s gaze makes you wet. You feel your underwear dampen and as inconspicuously as possible, you rub your legs together in an effort to get some friction.

“Take the rest of your clothes off.”

You take a deep breath to calm yourself and do as you’re told. You feel the cool breeze of air on your sex and you realize just how wet you are.

On instinct, you inch your knees together.

“Spread your legs.”

You feel self-conscious, but you obey. Slowly, you move your legs apart and reveal your soaking pussy to Levi’s eyes.

“There you go. Good girl.”

His low praise makes you tremble just a little, and you get an instant reaction. Partially because you’ve been trained and conditioned to give him anything, partially because it’s in your nature to find thrill in being ordered around and overpowered like this, even when outside the bedroom you charge in and do as you please.

A discord, one you suspect Levi’s noticed and enjoys as well. He likes having his mad dog, his wild card that so often does whatever she feels like out in the field, in tight control like this.

You go back to teasing your breasts. They turn hard and more sensitive each time you pinch them, and your crotch turns slicker and slicker.

“Stop.”

You whimper.

“Get off the bed.”

You reluctantly pull your hands away and sit up. You look at Levi. He hasn’t moved, though his pants are noticeably bulging.

You move to your feet.

“Down on your knees.”

You lick your lips and do as you’re told. Levi uncrosses his legs and beckons you with one finger.

“Come here.”

At that, you give him a small glare.

“You want me to crawl to you on all fours like an animal?”

Immediately, he smirks.

“Yes.”

You glare at him some more. It’s embarrassing. But somehow, the embarrassment serves as a source of excitement for you. The thought makes you hot.

Slowly, you start crawling. Back arched and eyes intent on Levi’s tenting pants, you move. You reach him, settle between his legs and sit up on your knees.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, firm but not painful, and presses your face against his groin.

“Nuzzle.”

You obey immediately. You lovingly rub your face against his clothed cock, eyes closed and lips mouthing with blind devotion.

He guides your head by your hair, his grip full of authority but not hurting you. When he uses his other hand to unbutton his pants and take out his dick, you open your eyes to give him that wide-eyed, submissive look you know drives him crazy.

It works instantaneously. His hold of your hair tightens.

“You know what to do.”

Almost purring, you lick his cock, from the base to the tip, before taking it in your mouth. Using only your mouth and keeping your hands resting on your lap like you’ve been trained to, you tongue the spot just under the tip.

He groans. You’re getting good at this with all the practice, and in no time at all he’s bucking his hips into your mouth, his hand on the back of your head keeping you still.

You moan as he pushes to the back of your head, your pussy soaking wet from the treatment. You love this and you love how Levi didn’t start treating you like a proper lass just because he found out your secret.

You stay completely still, allowing him to use your throat, and when he finally pushes back, you’re just a little light-headed, but in a good way.

He leans down, hand still demanding in your hair, and kisses you. You moan eagerly, mouth moving silky smooth against him.

This man could do anything to you and all you’d do is moan in response.

“Get on my lap.”

Easily, you climb on him, straddling his hips. He grabs your waist, his lips pressing against your throat. You toss your head back as he kisses and nibbles, marking you with his mouth.

“Sit on my cock.”

You need one hand to position him. You feel your walls stretch around his girth, still not completely used to the intrusion, but it doesn’t hurt like it did the first time around.

You impale yourself on him, pushing down until you’re sitting on his lap properly. You pant, getting used to the feeling, while Levi growls against your neck with a low voice, lips marking you with newfound enthusiasm.

“You’re tight.”

You smile breathlessly and to taunt him, you clench yourself around him. Immediately, you hear him moan in response.

“Start moving.”

You take support from his shoulders. Eyes lidded, you slowly raise your hips until his dick almost pops out. Then, you sit back down.

He lets your hair go, hands moving to hold your hips instead. He supports you, guiding the pace as you slowly start bouncing on his cock.

You tilt your head forward and kiss him. You open your mouth for his tongue, letting it rub against yours as you ride him. It feels good.

He thrusts deep into your body. You tighten your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, hips rolling in rhythm with his hands.

“Levi, Capo,” you moan, relishing in the way he groans and huffs every time he rams in.

It’s much too soon when he suddenly pulls you off his cock. On cue, you start protesting, rolling your hips against him.

“Capo, please, put it back,” you breathe.

“Shh,” he hushes you. You can hear the amusement in his voice as he easily picks you up and carries you back to the bed.

You watch him pleadingly, your sex aching to be filled. Instead of giving you what you want, he takes off his belt.

Standing next to the bed, he folds the belt and traces the stiff leather over your body. From your collarbones down to your breasts, then to your navel.

You watch, entranced, and wonder if he’s going to hit you with it. Afraid, but secretly begging for it.

He does not. He uses the belt to tie your hands together. Then, he takes your belt and uses it to tie your tied hands to the metal bedpost.

“Try not to scream too much or I’ll have to gag you,” he says. Still fully clothed aside from his unbuttoned pants, he gets on the bed.

He looks over your naked body where you’re lying, hopeless and beyond turned on.

“What are you going to do?” you ask. He chuckles. His strong hands grab your thighs and before you can register it, you’re put in a spread position.

Your breath gets barred in your chest. You feel something place on your pussy, and as you raise your head to see, you realise it’s Levi’s mouth.

Your eyes widen.

It’s taboo. Sucking Levi off was already a daring move, two men or not. For Levi to lick you? Outrageously deviant. Even you know this much.

But the immediate feeling of pleasure wipes it all from your mind.

“Capo,” you gasp. You keep your legs exactly where he left them, spread along your waist. His tongue licks you with no reservations, as if returning the favour for the many times you made him come with yours.

He focuses on your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue with a rapid pace. You can tell it’s not the first time he’s done this. You slowly relax on the bed.

It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. He gives you no rest, mouth pleasuring you eagerly. His tongue moves over your clit, his lips keep up a small suction. You writhe on the bed a little, hands tied above your head to keep you from gaining any control.

You’re at his mercy. His to do as he pleases with.

And he knows, as well as you do, that the only reason he has the control is because you handed it to him.

Before you know it, you’re rolling your hips into his mouth. Moaning desperately, you search for the pleasure. Groaning, he grabs your hips, this time to pull you in tighter against him.

His tongue gets more impatient, moving along your slit, and when his thin fingers push inside you and curl up against your walls, you nearly lose it.

“Good girl,” he hums, just a touch cocky when he hears your moans and realises just how desperate you are to get off on his mouth.

Not that he’s one to deny it from you. He tongues your clit, fingers rubbing against your insides with small, circular motions. It feels heavenly. Slowly, with each time his tongue laps over your clit, your mind blanks.

He senses you’re close. His mouth gets more demanding, his fingers faster. Before long, you start to tremble. A little at first but soon, your whole body is shaking like a leaf.

You close your eyes, spasming as Levi drives you over the edge. You moan, his name dies on your lips as you’re taken over by the pleasure, wiping your mind clean of all thoughts as he gently licks you through your orgasm.

You see the fireworks behind your eyelids, feel the waves of pleasure, and as they pass, you slump on the bed, panting.

He hardly gives you a dozen seconds to catch your breath before he settles between your legs. He’s tired of waiting, he wants you now.

Without protests from you, he easily slides into your body and starts fucking you into the mattress.

You open your eyes and look at him. So hard and domineering above you, knowing exactly how much you love being treated like this.

You pull your legs to your waist, hands clenching in the hold of your restraints.

He’s fucking you and all you can do is spread your legs for him and take it.

Levi can do that to you. Reduce you into nothing but a cock hungry slut.

“Fuck me,” you tell him, the last of your inhibitions gone with your orgasm.

He grits his teeth. He grabs your throat and squeezes it in his hold. Immediately, you moan. You arch your back, legs spread wide for his cock.

He could strangle you right now and you couldn’t do anything about it. And just like every other time he’s had your life in his hands like this, you get so aroused you can’t think straight.

“Harder,” you whisper. He starts drilling into you at a faster pace and while you won’t complain, that’s not what you’re talking about.

“Your hand. Squeeze me harder.”

His eyes flash.

“You’re one fucked up dame.”

You give him a breathless smile and tighten your muscles around him.

“Stop the bullshit, Capo. That’s why you want me. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

He does as he’s told. His grip shuts your airways, his dick rams into your tender pussy and the combination of the two overwhelming feelings makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Keep your eyes open. I need to know you’re conscious.”

You open your eyes, painstakingly so, and keep them on Levi. The worry dispels from his eyes when he sees you’re okay, and he slams in harder.

You feel his ownership, the way he fucks you hard and fast, like you exist for nothing else but to serve his cock.

His eyes convey what you already know.

You’re his. He’ll never let you go. And if you ever betray him, he’ll kill you.

You look at him. Submissive, willing, hopelessly turned on by the dark, smouldering look in his eyes. You feel close to blacking out, and as your eyes finally flutter shut, you come hard.

Everything goes blank. The pleasure is all you feel, the way you squeeze his dick in, the way your body shakes from head to toe.

It takes you a moment to realize that Levi let you go the moment you closed your eyes and that without realising it, you used the air to beg for him.

“Levi, please, keep going, fuck me, I’m yours, I- Shit!” you gasp. His dick keeps hitting you at just the right angle, prolonging your orgasm, and he keeps going until you’re thrashing and writhing on the bed, begging for mercy.

He watches, intrigued and aroused, as you come undone for him. He can see the light finger marks on your skin for just a second before they disappear.

You gasp for breath, eyes still closed, but the way you toss underneath him in the midst of your orgasm makes it obvious you’re still conscious.

Finally, he pauses, allowing your orgasm to pass. You open your eyes, languid and tired. You smile at him and say the only thing you can think to.

“Thank you, sir.”

His eyes light up instantly. With newfound hunger, he grabs your hips in his hands and starts pushing in again, this time with nothing but his own release in mind.

“Fuck, you little vixen,” he curses under his breath. Immediately, that bratty grin is back on your face and you arch your back, inviting him to fuck you even harder.

“I all yours, Capo. Just take me however you want,” you whisper, even though you can feel your crotch get sore and sensitive. But you like the feeling, like the thought of going out on a life-threatening mission as Levi’s loose cannon while feeling the reminder of how hard he’s capable of dominating you when no one’s seeing.

He uses his hands on your hips to pull you back on his cock, his hips thrusting with full authority. You’re limber and loose like a rag doll, happy to be used.

He has the decency to pull out before he comes. His seed lands on your bare stomach and he lets out a loud groan as he cums.

He pulls back and you both catch your breaths. He looks over your glistening, naked body and reaches for his bedside table to take out a napkin and wipe the cum from your stomach.

“I feel tempted to leave you there out of harm’s way,” he says as he tosses the napkin back on the table. You give him a small glare.

“Do that and you’re dead.”

“You couldn’t kill me, Jessie.”

You’ll see about that. Very soon.

Despite his words, he lets you loose and you rub your tender wrists.

“Really, though. It’s going to be a bloodshed. You sure you want to come?”

“Are you mental? Of course, I want to come. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He shakes his head with a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t do anything reckless. Stay behind me and don’t shoot unless told to. Larger squads than mine have been wiped in a hit gone wrong.”

“Yes, dear,” you say with a teasing hum. He sits on the edge of the bed to get clothed.

Playful, you move on your knees next to him. Arms circling around his shoulders, you blow air into his ear. He turns to give you a small look.

He turns thoughtful and when he opens his mouth, you know exactly what he’s trying to tell you.

“Jess-”

“I won’t run away and marry you,” you cut him off. “I’m not suited for domestic life. I’d go crazy as a housewife.”

He sighs.

“Stop offering to provide for me out of a sense of chivalry,” you say. He shakes his head.

“That ain’t it, Jess. If you only knew.”

“Knew what?”

He shoves you back down on the bed and mounts you. His eyes are thoughtful as he cups your cheek.

“How crazy you drive me every day.”

Your eyes soften just a little and to hide the way your heart suddenly starts leaping in your chest, you pull him down for a kiss.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask.

“Who knows?” comes his enigmatic answer.

Only, you do. As the meeting draws nearer, you’re starting to feel the weight of the lives you’re about to take.

And it comes as no surprise that while the lives of the Don and his closest men are feather light to you, Levi’s weighs you down more and more each day.

You can only pray it won't be the thing that pulls you under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. 
> 
> I know. 
> 
> Too long since the last update. My mental health has been kind of in shambles all year so my writing pace is much worse than usual and even worse during the summer. I'm sorry about that. Lately, a lot of my energy has gone to completely mundane things like getting out of bed before evening, showering, brushing my teeth, grocery shopping at least semi-weekly, making and eating at least one meal a day that's not complete junk food and has actual ingredients with nutritional value, making sure my pets are fed and their enclosures clean, feeling stressed about not writing or applying for jobs every day, and so on. If you or your loved ones have had similar issues, I'm sure you know exactly the kind of slump I'm talking about.
> 
> That being said, this chapter is very much a calm before the storm kind of deal, we have Levi and Ida becoming more like a couple, a very lengthy sex scene because we all like those, and next time will be a good old shootout.
> 
> As always (well, now more than ever since I'm at a writing drought and comments always help), I'd love to hear from you. The story is slowly coming to a close with just a few chapters left, I'm curious to hear how you think it's going to end. Will Ida succeed? Get out alive? Will Levi survive? Place your bets now!
> 
> Also, for any potential people reading this because the world of M/M Reader/Levi fics is very small and this is the best you can get right now, I recently started a short M/M story. There's only one chapter so far but I've almost finished the second one, it should be up soon :) For anyone interested: [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24579163/)
> 
> Until next time!


	12. Nothingness

The atmosphere in the car is tense. You’re sitting in the back, sandwiched between a couple of soldatos whose names escape you.

You can still feel Levi’s hands all over your body. A constant reminder of his ownership, even as you ease back into the role of a young gunslinger called Isaac.

You know to expect chaos from the shoot-out. Taking out a Capo is never clean as they’re often surrounded by footmen. Footmen with good aim.

Despite being aware of that, you feel giddy. You always enjoy a bit of action.

You glance at the back of Levi’s head. He’s sitting in the front. His wound seems to have healed well. He’s not a hundred per cent yet, but he’s getting there.

You check your weapons while you drive and every now and then, you glance out of the window. The Moretti famiglia controls most of the city but you wonder if the tiny portion controlled by the Riccis looks any different.

You don’t have time to pay it much thought before something else catches your attention.

Next to you, one of the soldatos is fiddling his gun, obviously nervous. You glance at him.

“First mission?”

He turns to look at you, swallowing a little. Then, he shakes his head.

“No.”

You raise an eyebrow. Under the guise of friendly conversation, you keep talking.

“You new? When were you initiated?”

“Around six months back.”

You hum. That’s more than enough time to stop being nervous about missions like these. You purse your lips and think it through.

Something’s off with him. You look at the way his palms are sweaty. The way he inconspicuously looks around. Georgie and Levi are busy at the front and the soldato on your other side is daydreaming.

Do you have a snitch? Are you walking into a trap? Or are you merely overreacting?

You’d like to think you have a pretty good instinct.

“Capo, how long until we’re there?” you call to the front. Levi glances at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Around ten minutes.”

You blow a raspberry and weigh your options. If someone’s sabotaging the mission, that would mean that so long as you’re prepared, you could turn it into an advantage.

If you’re walking to an ambush, they’ll go for Levi first and foremost. You could erase Levi from the picture without laying a hand of him. Levi has a mean aim. That would make the administrative meeting much easier to deal with.

And above all, it would mean you wouldn’t have to take him out yourself.

You’re conflicted. A part of you knows you’ll have to do it eventually in either case but another, more persistent part tells you he deserves better than being shot and tossed in a ditch.

He deserves to meet his end by your hand.

You quickly make a decision, never one to draw them out.

“Capo, I need to piss,” you call to the front. Levi glances at you through the mirror again, clearly annoyed.

“Why didn’t you piss before we left?”

“Didn’t need to piss then.”

“Too bad. You’re a big boy. Hold it in.”

You roll your eyes and give him a look through the mirror. The kind of look you both know to mean you have something to say. Privately.

You cross your arms and click your tongue.

“Fine. I’ll piss my pants then and get your car all nasty.”

Levi narrows his eyes and slams on the break when he spots a rundown diner. Pulling over, he sighs deeply.

“Georgie, keep the guys in line. I need to talk to Isaac about manners,” he says. Georgie glances over to the back at you.

“You’re in trouble now, lad. You’d do well to control your temper around Capo.” He sounds amused. You climb over the nervous-looking soldato you just talked to and start walking to the diner with Levi.

You enter. The interior doesn’t look very posh or even moderately hygienic. There aren’t many customers around. Only the most daring would hang out this close to the border between the Moretti and Ricci territories. Or the poorest.

“The kid needs to use the bathroom,” Levi tells the lady minding the counter. She gives Levi a small glare but can tell he’s not someone she wants to cross.

“Down the hall,” she grunts, and Levi hauls you there.

The bathroom is filthy. The taps are leaking and you’re immediately met with the smell or rust. Luckily, the stalls are all free.

Levi pushes you against one of the sinks and crosses his arms.

“Well?”

“You have a snitch,” you tell him. “Fellow next to me was sweating so much his shirt looked like a damn map of the world. He’s hiding something.”

“The one on your left or right?”

“Right.”

Levi hums and thinks it over. Then, he glances around to double check you’re alone and yanks you in by your waist.

“Aren’t you being loyal,” he smirks. You tilt your chin.

“For now,” you say. You’re not kidding but he doesn’t need to know that. He steals a kiss and then tells you to wait here before walking out.

Two minutes later, he comes back, dragging the soldato by the scruff of his neck. He throws the guy inside, followed by a very confused-looking Georgie and the other soldato.

“Well then, it’s time for choir practice. If you know what’s good for you, I suggest you sing,” Levi says dully. The soldato whimpers and looks around, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Capo.”

“Yeah, Capo, what’s going on?” Georgie cuts in with a frown.

“We got a snitch.”

Georgie gives the soldato a doubtful side-eye. He looks like he’s about to piss his pants.

“How do you know that, Capo?”

“Isaac sniffed him out.”

“Isaac?”

Georgie turns to you. You’re leaning against the sink, meeting his eyes calmly. You can see it in Georgie’s eyes. He’s been unhappy lately. Namely, about the fact that you seem to be well on your way to replace him as Levi’s right hand man.

“Capo,” he starts carefully. “Are you sure you’re not putting too much trust in Isaac?”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Levi asks and raises an eyebrow.

“No! Goodness, no,” Georgie hurries to deny. “But lad’s a newbie. He could misinterpret body language.”

“Yes. Exactly. Yes!” the soldato hurries to nod along. Levi silences him with an icy glare.

“Maybe so, but by seeing his reaction now I can tell something stinks here,” Levi says and turns back to the soldato.

“Name.”

“Riccardo. Riccardo Conti,” he replies nervously. Levi narrows his eyes.

“This is why I hate the laxer requirements we’ve had on initiated men lately. We get rats like this scurrying through.”

He takes out his revolver. Instead of shooting, he smacks the handle into the soldato’s face, breaking his nose. Immediately, he howls in pains and keels over.

“Has Ricci’s Capo been tipped off?” Levi asks. The answer takes just a tad too long, and Levi easily whacks him down to his knees and stomps on one of his hands, breaking his fingers. The soldato cries out, shakes his head and turns to Georgie, the one he’s deemed to be the softest of the bunch.

“Please, make him stop.”

“Make him stop?” you laugh coldly. “That’s your Capo, lad. None of us can make it stop.”

He looks around to find no sympathy. Levi’s cold, ready to strike again. You’re aloof. Georgie crosses his arms, giving him the kind of look telling him he got himself in this mess all by himself. The last soldato watches curiously, it’s obviously his first time in an interrogation like this.

Seeing no other alternative, the soldato realizes he’s cornered. He drops his gaze.

“They’re waiting for you. They’re ready for your arrival.”

“Where?”

“They’ll hole up in the café you’re trying to shoot up. They’ll shoot the vehicle on sight.”

“I see.”

Levi points his gun at the soldato’s head. He panics. Dropping to his knees, he crawls towards Levi to grab his legs.

“Capo, please, they’ll kill me if I fail. They’ll kill me and my dame.”

“When?”

“At the end of the da-”

“No, Riccardo. When did I ask?” Levi asks calmly. Georgie snorts, barely audibly. Levi pulls the hammer of his gun back, eyes cold and unforgiving on the soldato.

Suddenly, you realize something.

“Wait.”

Levi turns his eyes to you, his gun still honed on the soldato. As Levi diverts his attention, Georgie takes out his gun and points it at the soldato as well, taking over manning him for now.

“What?”

“Are we cancelling the operation?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“How about we trigger the trap, have them use all their ammo on the car and then swoop in to clear them out?” you ask.

“Trigger it how?” Levi asks. You point at the soldato.

“Have him drive the car to the café.”

“He’ll drive off, there’s no way he’ll just drive in to get shot.”

“That can be taken care of,” you disregard. Some rope and a brick on the gas pedal should clear that right up.

“My car would be ruined.”

“It would’ve been in either case. Or did you expect us to get to the Capo without any damage?”

“Insolent,” Levi tsks but you catch the way he looks at you. It’s that amused, impressed look he gives you when he knows you’re about to do something batshit crazy.

“Alright, lads. Georgie, take this waste of space back to the car with you, please,” Levi says and gestures towards the other soldato.

Georgie purses his lips, clearly a little sour about Levi’s sudden willingness to discuss strategy with you instead of him. Levi catches onto it.

“Isaac here’s too small to keep our friend in check should he decide to act up. And I don’t trust him to go alone,” Levi gestures to the remaining soldato.

“Goddamn it, Georgie, you can suck Capo’s dick later. Do your job.” You roll your eyes. Georgie points at you.

“You’re getting cocky, lad. You’ve got a pretty face and good aim, I’ll give you that, but don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Good looks _and_ good aim? I don’t know, Georgie, sounds like two-zero for me,” you quip. You’re not intimidated by Georgie. Hell, you’ll be dead or in London weeks before the thought of backstabbing you finally reaches his thick skull.

Georgie grumbles, but he reaches a hand to ruffle your hair a little.

“Cocky little rascal,” he mutters, fond but reluctantly so. He grabs Riccardo and leaves either way, leaving you alone with Levi.

“So, what’s your outlandish plan this time?” Levi asks and crosses his arms.

“We tie Riccardo up on the passenger seat, fix a brick on the gas so that the car crawls at snail’s pace and have them empty their magazines at it. Then, once they step out to check the damage, we take them out.”

“Someone needs to stay behind to fix the car.“

“The soldato can do that. We can station ourselves on the opposite roof. Me, you and Georgie. We ought to get the job done, despite Georgie.”

“He can shoot you know,” Levi says, though he sounds entertained by your feud. You snort.

“Knowing how to fire a gun doesn’t mean you’re good at it. I’m sure he can take a dick in his mouth too but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make you come.”

“So vulgar,” Levi snorts, but he easily pins you down against the wall. Crooking his index finger, he links it under your chin and raises it. “Be careful.”

“You know I never am,” you grin back and rest your hand on his waist. You know you’re on borrowed time. The administrative meeting is fast approaching and you’ve already asked Mike to be on the lookout for some cyanide.

It’s the easiest way to take care of things. Even if that means Levi will have to go with the rest. You won’t even have to be there.

You feel like an utter traitor as you dote at Levi’s handsome face and pull him in for a kiss. You tilt your head, releasing a stifled moan in his mouth as he presses you into the wall.

Were things any other way, you’d happily live your life with Levi. Never a quiet life, you don’t suit that, but you’d happily travel the world with him, maybe make a living doing sharpshooting competitions.

Maybe it’s the part of you giving in to the futile fantasy of one day having all that, having Levi and a peace of mind, that makes you open your eyes and utter out the words.

“Alright. Once my dues have been paid, I’ll go on the run with you. Marry you, carry your kids, whatever you want. So long as you never try to turn me into a housewife.”

At that, Levi pauses. He gives you a long look.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t. I said after I’ve paid my debt. So if you want that to happen soon you should give me some lucrative projects to handle.”

He gives you an unimpressed look and pats your head.

“Georgie’s right. You really are getting cocky.”

Yes, you are. Mostly because you have absolutely nothing to lose, but you give him a vivacious smile anyway and peck a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re a real catch,” you chirp. He gives you one more kiss and then finally pulls back.

“Alright. Let’s get this ball rolling, then.”

-

You’re all in position. You’ve crawled onto the dirty tile roof of a rundown motel across the café where the Capo from the Ricci famiglia is hiding. It took Levi a bit extra effort thanks to his injury, but you’re ready now, your guns honed in on the café. The soldato only needs to let go of the brake to set the trap in motion.

You’re actually surprised the brick trick works so well. Putting a smaller brick just barely touching the gas pedal sends the car into a soft glide and you suspect it’ll be shot up ways before it has a chance to crash into anything.

“Poor Riccardo,” you hum as Levi flags down the soldato from the room.

“Really?” Levi asks sceptically. You snort.

“No. Let’s get this going.”

You feel no sympathy for Riccardo. He decided to play a dangerous game and couldn’t stand the pressure. Had you started sweating and fidgeting every time you were bluffing your way through this whole ordeal, Levi would’ve offed you long ago.

It was your wit and raw nerve that got you this far. If you can’t pull it off, you shouldn’t play with fire.

You watch as the car starts rolling down the street. You’re not sure how many people are inside that coffee shop, holed in and ready to shoot.

Judging by the way the windows suddenly shatter with a hail of bullets, obviously coming from more than one machine gun, many.

The car gets absolutely obliterated in less than a dozen seconds. It’s impressive, they’re clearly determined to take Levi out without a chance of him surviving the bullets.

You wait until the wave is over. You have the advantage of decent cover but that still doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to take everyone out before they notice you.

Riccardo is long dead by the time the first people emerge from the coffee shop. You wait, patiently, until it looks like no more are coming out.

Levi gestures for you to line up your guns. He signals to wait as the people approach the car. They look much like the Moretti family mobsters, with long coats, vests and top hats. Seven of them walk out.

It’s less than you thought. You feel oddly disappointed.

You pay attention to one man in particular, an older fellow who seems to be giving the orders. You nod towards him and turn to Levi.

He nods but points at himself. He wants to take him out. You pout but let it go. You don’t want to start a hand gesture argument.

Levi’s the first to move in. He lines up a shot, taking advantage of the brief moment of confusion as they open the car door and find Riccardo, tied up and obviously dead.

Levi takes out the Capo. It’s a single, clean shot. Then, he signals for you to open fire on the rest before they locate where the shot comes from.

The soldato who sent the car has long since retreated to call for another vehicle to pick you up. You just need to hold on until then.

You were really hoping for more of a challenge.

The remaining soldatos stand still, looking around like startled owls and by the time the last man gets the idea to go back inside for cover, he’s already dead.

You can’t help your disappointed sigh as the last man slumps down. You turn to Levi, looking almost accusing as if it’s his fault they didn’t put up more of a fight.

“Bloody amateurs. Who do they hire these days?” you cluck at him as you holster your weapon.

“B-class recruits. The A-class recruits enlist with us,” Levi illuminates and moves to get off the roof.

You stare after him and glance at Georgie. Then, you follow Levi down to the ground. You check to see you’re not flanked and then move to the café.

A quick scouting trip inside shows you that they didn’t have the foresight to leave anyone here in cover.

“I didn’t even get to light this place on fire. I’m appalled,” you complain as you step out. Levi gives you an amused look.

“Take it easy, kiddo.”

You sigh. You can’t help but feel a little gutted. Your last mission with Levi ended up being this lacklustre.

And what’s more, you had the chance to walk your Capo right into a trap and be rid of him without dirtying your hands. Only you didn’t.

It adds to the huge cloud over your head, the genuine fear that you will not be able to eliminate Levi once it comes down to it. You, of all people, are being swept away by your feelings for a man.

The very same man who ousted your family to the mafia.

As backup arrives, you leave the Ricci territory without incident. You stare out of the window, deep in thought.

You can only hope Mike can get his hands on some cyanide. Poisoning the lot of them during the meeting is your best bet at eliminating everyone, including Levi.

Plus, that means you won’t need to shoot Levi yourself.

Coward, a small part of your brain interjects. Levi deserves to die knowing exactly why. He deserves to look straight into your eyes as you spell out his every sin before pulling the trigger.

But the longer this farce between you goes on, the more you’re coming to the realisation you might not have it in you to do just that.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your chance to attend some exciting, deadly shoot-outs where you have to climb over a mountain of bodies at the end just to get back home.”

You give Georgie a small look and make a face at him.

Inside, you’re slowly realising that you truly won’t. You won’t have the chance. It’s very likely you’ll get figured out and gunned down before you can leave for London.

The moment of absolute, all-consuming fear doesn’t last long, but it makes you gain some much-needed respect for death.

You might not have long.

The moment you’re back to the mansion, you practically drag Levi back to his room. You press against, him, seek his lips and try to conceal the way you tremble just a little with the thought of the nothingness you’re dashing right towards.

If he notices, he says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back!
> 
> This is the last chapter before the start of the Showdown™ so I hope you're ready for the climax! I also had to write a whole second version of this chapter because I didn't like the first one whoops.
> 
> Ida's really not the kind of character to dwell on death and philosophy, but I wanted her to have a brief moment where she recognizes exactly where she's heading. That being said, what better way to send her spiralling than being denied some good old action and adrenaline lol. And Levi seems to be more and more fond of her each day ^^
> 
> As always, comments mean the absolute world to me, they always brighten my day so if you have a spare moment, please consider leaving a comment!
> 
> My followers on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/RogueRika) always know exactly what I'm working on and when to expect updates. I also sometimes name characters after my followers and run polls to decide various fic-related things. If you're interested, feel free to follow me!
> 
> Until next time!


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